Independence Day
by BravoExpressions
Summary: When Brandi has to go through a harrowing delivery, Mary's and Marshall's 'new' friendship is put to the test. Set two months post-finale, rated T because of some language, just like always.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings, friends! I come bearing a completely new tale (Sam seems to have died, unfortunately; but I won't count him out completely just in case.) This story, 'Independence Day' is set two months post-finale. Now, I have no desire to get into a discussion on this but I was not disappointed in the finale. Whatever actually happened, I thought it was beautifully acted and written and they sailed out with style for me. BUT, that doesn't mean I wouldn't be happy to see it end a different way! What is fan-fic for! ;) **

**So, this starts out (kind of minus this first chapter) as a 'tale of two sisters.' I really hope you loyal followers of mine will give it a chance, even though it is Mary/Brandi heavy but I promise that Mary and Marshall have a significant undercurrent that sweeps upward in a hurry as the story progresses. It pulls in all sorts from the final episodes and creates my own version of what might've happened two months after that fated conversation on the balcony. Hope I start it off right!**

XXX

Fourth of July weekend never made Mary happy. Then again, few things made Mary happy but she supposed holidays always formed a little more of a sore spot. Even being in law enforcement, she wasn't what you would call especially patriotic and she well-remembered Independence Day as a child, which wasn't a big help this year.

James had given her a sparkler the summer after she'd turned four. They'd had too-sour lemonade and Jinx had spiked hers with liquor. That was the July before Brandi had been born; one of Mary's earliest memories not counting the trips to the race track. Days as a family of three weren't pertinent in her mind anymore, but they lurked nonetheless. Once upon a time, they'd been real but there was no one left to hold them dear anymore. Mary had been too little, Jinx too sloshed, and whatever James had hung onto had died along with him.

And so, Mary strained her brain when she saw the date on her computer calendar, trying to conjure up the spark and flare that little lighted stick had thrown onto the pavement. She felt it in her fingers, could feel James thrusting the handle into her palm, closing in and gripping tight.

"_Make sure you don't let go, partner."_

"_Daddy, come on. I'm not scared."_

"_I know, sweetheart," the fondness of the grin flashed in her mind's eye. "My little girl's not afraid of anything."_

Shaking her head, Mary blinked and focused on the paperwork on her desk once more, but found that she was probably done for the day. Six-thirty was fast-approaching and she knew she should probably get home and relieve Brandi of Norah. With just two weeks until her due date, Mary wondered if she was going to be able to rely on her sister as much as she'd come to after she had her hands full with her own baby. The four of them, Jinx mingling among it all, were going to be quite a sight.

Sighing and putting away her papers, Mary hit the sleep button on her computer and stood, shouldering her tote and striding across the room to tell Marshall she was on her way out. His head was bent over Stan's old desk in the office, working by the hush glow of a lamp with an off-white shade. Since taking over the position of chief two months before, he'd been insanely busy – so much so his wedding plans had taken a little bit of a backseat.

Knocking and sticking her head in, Mary called her goodbye.

"I've gotta get going," she informed her semi-new-boss, still trying to get used to that among other things. "I fear if I leave Norah with Brandi too long she'll be trussed up in some God awful Easter dress."

"Easter in July?" Marshall quipped without raising his head. "That's a new one."

"You get the idea," Mary replied. "She can corrupt her own kid when the time comes. There might still be hope for Norah if I intervene now."

"There's always hope…" Marshall murmured distractedly. And then, deciding he might engage more appropriately, he looked up to face her. "How's she doing, anyway? Brandi, I mean. I haven't seen her in awhile."

He hadn't seen anybody lately that wasn't on the other side of a conference room table, and his features were starting to show it. Mary often wondered how much sleep he was getting trying to keep up with all the aspects of being in charge, because his cheeks were starting to go sunken and his eyes were beginning to lose their liveliness. She continually told herself he would be fine as soon as he got the hang of things, trying to do her best to be supportive as she'd promised.

"Attempting to stay on the straight and narrow…" Mary finally answered his question in regards to Brandi, half-hoping she didn't sound overly cynical. "Kind of sweet having a live-in baby-sitter though, and now I don't feel like I'm mooching off Joanna all the time."

"She's your daughter's grandmother," Marshall reminded her. "She moved here from Jersey to help out; I don't think she considers it mooching."

"Marshall, she was a principal for some forty years…" Mary reminded him, her feet taking her further inside the office, boots clacking on the linoleum. "And she caught Mark and I making out in the back of her station wagon when I was sixteen," she recalled. "Pretty sure if I let her stick around she'd have her eye on Norah like a hawk making sure she didn't repeat the transgressions."

"Ooh, transgressions…" Marshall seemed pleased and actually slid his work to the opposite side of the desk, which pleased Mary as well. "That's a big word for you, inspector. Don't tell me I'm rubbing off on you."

"Yeah, enough with the 'inspector' bit," Mary scoffed, walking all the way inside and leaning a hand on his desk. "I told you, you may be able to order me around like some power-hungry dictator but you're not gonna get away with addressing me as some kind of underling," she wagged a disciplinary finger in his face.

Marshall only smirked at this, and seemed relieved that they had fallen so easily into their groove. Although Mary didn't often bring it up because she feared it would make him feel guilty, she missed it. She was very proud of his promotion and certainly conceded he deserved it, but the banter they'd felt as partners had lost some of its vigor. It wasn't as though it had vanished; it just didn't have the opportunity to come out of the woodwork as often.

"Getting back to Brandi…" Marshall segued neatly away from Mary's request. "Although I am heartily happy to hear she is recovering nicely, I was thinking more in the physical sense of the 'how is she?'" he clarified. "I imagine thirty-eight weeks gestation is nothing to sneeze at, and you and I both know you don't have a lot of experience in that area," now his grin had gone insufferable. "Considering your own little moppet didn't make it past thirty-two," he finished.

Mary shook her head, unable to argue the point and also trying to find the best way to smack that ridiculous simper off his face. At the same time, she was glad to see him ease up. He could get very tense these days attempting to do the best job possible and not blow the Albuquerque division of WITSEC all to hell.

"She seems pretty routine to me," Mary shrugged. "She keeps whining about how much her back hurts, but something tells me she doesn't know the half of it," she fought sounding smug. "I was twice her size six weeks sooner."

Marshall chuckled, "Always the competitor," his eyes ventured back to his paperwork, knowing he had to get on it and couldn't afford to play around much longer.

Mary was a little disheartened to see this and wondered that if she perhaps kept talking he would do the same. He deserved a break just like the rest of them, and she was enjoying the here and now with just the two of them; Delia already having packed it in for a holiday weekend at her brother's.

"I just can't believe I'm practically going to have _two_ kids soon," Mary huffed, drumming her fingers absently on the top of his desk. "Norah doesn't even turn one for another month. I swear my life…"

Marshall didn't let her finish, "Brandi's kid isn't yours," he reminded her rationally, trying to do two things at once, talking and scratching his pencil. "If she stays sober and you can get through the first three months with a newborn, she can start looking for a job and really get back on her feet…"

"You just used the words 'Brandi' and 'job' in the same sentence," Mary snarked. "I believe those are conflicting phrases and don't mesh."

"Well, I won't say anything as typical as, 'Give her a chance,' but…"

"Because you know what's good for you," Mary slipped in-in an undertone.

"But," Marshall cut in very distinctly, raising his eyes once more. "I think having your support is working wonders for her. A place to stay and a home where she can begin to rebuild…"

"Enough with the philosophic jargon," Mary held up a hand to silence him. "I just want to get her worked out so I can legitimately boot her to the curb. I've got enough to deal with."

"Ah, sisterly love…" Marshall mused, seeming to think it was safe to only pay partial attention again. "In its purest form."

Mary went quiet then, trying to contemplate how best to continue or if she should just leave him to his devices for the evening so he could get home to Abigail at a decent hour. But Abigail penetrating her mind brought on another topic of discussion she could pose, and she didn't hesitate. Marshall certainly didn't seem to mind.

"You and the detective have plans for the fourth?" she questioned, hoping she seemed casual. "She whipping you up some heavenly-scented apple pie you won't share and buying you matching flag T-shirts?" it was so easy to tease aspects of Abigail, but she was usually careful not to go _too_ far.

Usually.

As it was, Marshall chuckled, "Provided we can both steal away for the afternoon, we may head up into the mountains on Sunday – maybe go for a hike."

"I didn't know your bride-to-be was an Annie Oakley type," Mary quipped. "You better take that mutt of yours in case she needs hauling up the slopes."

"What are _your_ plans?" Marshall ignored Mary's josh and continued writing, but she could still see the smile on his face.

"Oh, you know…" Mary shrugged. "The usual. Wrangle an eleven-month-old and try to keep Jinx from singing the star spangled banner."

"Did you know…?" he looked up again, ready to share. "Come 2014, that song will be an even two-hundred years old. Francis Scott Key wrote it in 1814 after he saw the British Royal Navy bombard Fort McHenry in the War of 1812…"

"Think that covers my _history_ lesson for the day…" Mary sighed. "What's tomorrow? Earth science?"

"Well, why am I surprised?" Marshall asked himself, but it was clear he wanted Mary to hear what he was about to say. "Holidays aren't really your thing. Anything that requires the gathering of more than one person and spawns decorations gets your blood pressure up."

"Very funny," was Mary's snide remark. "I'd much rather be sitting on my couch with my kid than foraging for geologic stones in the Sandia Mountains. Get. Real," she pressed distinctly, hoping to see his face go red, and it did just slightly under the glow from the lamp on the desk.

Perhaps hoping to see the same reaction from Mary, Marshall slid in with his inquiry, "No plans with Kenny?"

Mary's response didn't exactly prompt the desired or intended result. She did not blush, but became slightly evasive but also attempted to go for laid-back, wanting Marshall to know that what was about to come out of her mouth was not a big deal. She was fine with it – with all of it. She had enough going on as it was with Brandi scheduled to pop in fourteen days time.

"Kenny and I aren't seeing as much of each other these days."

Marshall raised his eyebrows, "Oh…" he articulated blandly. "No?"

"Nope," she shook her head. "He and Oliver and Company have got other hot moms to pursue."

"Oliver and Company?" now his brow was wrinkled as he tried to decode.

"His kid…" Mary waved this away as of little importance. "His kid's name is Oliver. And he was a nice guy and we had fun for awhile, but I think it was just too soon after…"

Christ almighty. She hadn't meant to go there. Her mouth got ahead of her mind far too often. And besides, James wasn't the _whole_ reason her and Kenny had parted ways. He just wasn't her type. If she even had one.

But Marshall was nodding coolly, playing along with her feelings of carelessness.

"Sure…" he agreed. "Makes sense. Maybe you can stay friends."

"'Cause I do _friends_ so well," Mary retorted in a low voice, finding that her gaze was suddenly straying from Marshall as though she were embarrassed. It appeared they had run their limit on enjoyment for the evening and she was quick to wrap things up, "Anyway…I should probably head out…" she gestured indistinctly at the open door. "Brandi's gonna wonder what's up."

"Right…" Marshall nodded, knowing they were done. "Give her my best; I hope her back starts to feel better."

"She's not an invalid, Marshall…" Mary reminded him, as though she were taking up for herself rather than her sister. "Two weeks and she'll have combusted like every other pregnant broad and have a nice little munchkin to show for it."

"Nice image…" Marshall nodded approvingly. "Just the same."

Mary also nodded her understanding, telling him without words that she would relay his concern to Brandi. She strongly suspected his interest in her sister came from craving contact with the outside world. He'd been on ostrich-status lately, burying his head in his new and much-more-important responsibilities, and a life beyond his work had taken a backseat as of late. She thought about asking how Abigail was dealing with this, but thought better of it and rearranged her words on her way back to the door.

"Hey…" she called from the frame, leaning and waiting for him to look up, which he eventually did. "Don't hang around here all night. You've got a fiancée at home waiting to make you some frou-frou, hoity-toity romantic meal…" she assumed. "Throw her a bone."

The light seemed to sneak back into Marshall's eyes at hearing how hard she was trying to be on his side. Since their conversation about how they needed to take a small step back from their tightly-wound connection, she'd definitely attempted to give him what he was asking for. He believed her when she said she just wanted him to be happy, and hoped he was fulfilling that somewhere in life.

"Plus, the air conditioning goes off at nine and you'll be a big puddle of sweat by a quarter after," Mary threw in while her new chief thought about all this.

"I will bear that in mind," Marshall assured her. "But I never thought it'd be _you_ telling _me_ to lay off the work."

"Eh…" Mary gave a nonchalant shrug. "Priorities," she grinned. "See you Monday."

"Enjoy your uneventful weekend…" Marshall called.

But she was already gone, and Marshall listened until the elevator doors closed, until the office was almost dark but for his little beam and quiet once more. And when he considered his options, either going home to Abigail or staying and finishing what needed to be done, Marshall knew that one choice should be infinitely more appealing than the other.

And yet, he scolded himself over and over again for knowing the preferred destination was not a candlelit dinner at home. It was riding downstairs at this very minute, soon to be walking through a door to a sweet, bouncing baby girl.

XXX

**A/N: I had to start out with these two to get you guys rolling, but Mary and Brandi become the focus pretty quickly. I know a Brandi-centric story won't interest as many people, but c'est la vie, right? But, I have promised you Mary/Marshall in some way and you will get them throughout, I swear it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank-you so very much for the early reviews! You all excite me with your excitement! I was worried I wouldn't be able to make good on my usual timely updates this evening because we have been having Internet issues. Hopefully they stay in the past!**

XXX

The sight that met Mary's eyes when she walked through the door was not one she expected or wanted to see. Norah was sitting on the island mashing up Cheerios and dangerously close to falling into the sink. Brandi was at least nearby, but was pacing and seemingly paying no attention at all, hands where they often rested these days – on her lower back.

"Hey…" Mary tried not to flip-out right away and dumped her bag and sunglasses on or somewhat near the end table, walking into the kitchen to join.

"Hey…" Brandi's reply was half-hearted and her eyes didn't meet her sister's.

"How are things?" Mary asked, and then reached for her daughter, pulling her up and away from the slippery pit she was about to skate into. "Hi Bug…" she kissed her temple and fingered the strands of hair sprouting in tufts on the top of her head, still too early to tell if it was going to be dark or light.

Brandi attempted a smile that looked more like a wince at Mary's appearance and tried to answer her question, "We're fine…" she sighed and fingered the overalls Norah was wearing, along with the pale pink T-shirt that had definitely been her aunt's doing and not her mother's. "Missy here spilled all her apple juice at lunch so I had to change her. This pink shirt was the only thing that was clean…" she obviously felt she had to explain the attire her niece was in.

"Did you start laundry?" was Mary's first question, trying to keep Norah from plastering her with the bits of cereal stuck on her fingers.

"No…" Brandi exhaled, sweeping her bangs out of her eyes and looking ashamed. "I forgot…"

Mary bit her tongue, knowing her sister had not done this on purpose but it still irked her. How was she supposed to have something for Norah to wear if nobody washed anything? She was always spitting or smearing or staining some article of clothing at least once a day, if not more often.

"Take her…" Mary sighed in response, lifting her daughter to balance on Brandi's hip. "I'll get it going…"

But Brandi shook her head, perhaps for the first time pawing her niece away and Mary was perplexed.

"Put her on the counter or in the playpen…" even though she was really getting too big for the latter. "I can't hold her right now."

"What?" Mary crinkled her nose, trying to keep Norah from slipping to the floor since Brandi had rejected her. "Why not?" she remembered the pacing and the placement of her hands and took a wild guess. "Are you okay?"

Brandi shook her head, "My back is really bothering me."

"Squish, come on…" Mary slipped into disbelief quite quickly, but then checked herself. "Your back always hurts, and forgive me for saying so, but it's not exactly an uncommon ailment when you're carting around a bowling ball."

Brandi's only response was to feed her sister pitiful blue eyes, begging tolerance and hoping to be accommodated for, doted upon and maybe even pitied.

"Look…" Mary shook her head, just hoping to get Norah a better dinner and call it a night. "If you want to go lie down for awhile there's a hot water bottle under the sink in the bathroom."

Norah was beginning to whine, reaching in Mary's arms for the stray Cheerios still littering the counter but she was messy enough already. Besides that, she was concerned about giving her anything too hard since she was still teething and had been up a lot during the night.

"Sit tight Bug…" she murmured, swinging her daughter out of range of the food, but Brandi was speaking over her.

"Laying down makes it worse," she claimed. "I've been trying to walk it off but it's not working…"

Mary couldn't help feeling that Brandi was being a little overdramatic, or else that she didn't have the threshold for pain that Mary did. However, she wasn't looking especially well. Her cheeks were flushed and she was distinctly droopy, although she didn't find either of these things particularly exceptional for how late in the pregnancy she was.

Still, Mary hitched Norah onto her hip, hanging onto her with one arm and put three fingers to Brandi's forehead – just to make sure.

"You're good…" the older sister muttered. "Just checking…" but Brandi didn't look convinced and also a little worried, so Mary hurried to ease her mind so they could move on. "Try lying down for a bit anyway. Get your feet up, stretch out, you'll be fine."

Brandi shrugged, but stretched to run a hand over Norah's head before ultimately agreeing.

"Okay…" she whispered. "I'm probably just tired."

Mary was sure this was it and nodded to reinforce the point, "I'll check on you in a little while."

"Thanks," Brandi was grateful and made another brave attempt at a smile. And then, knowing how fiercely Mary was working at this open-minded thing, "I'm sorry about the laundry, Mare. I meant to put some in; I'll try to remember next time."

Mary shrugged, "Whatever," she muttered vaguely. "Just get yourself rested up so I can rob some more of your time before that rug-rat shows up…" she waggled her fingers in the region of Brandi's rounded belly.

Fortunately, this earned her a real grin but Brandi stayed silent as she made her way back to the guest room and out of Mary's sight. Once she was gone, Mary let out something of a theatrical sigh and lifted Norah up above her head to see just how messy she'd gotten.

"Look at you…" she clucked her tongue, and Norah seemed to enjoy the long fingers holding her up along with the funny noise. "How old are you gonna be before you learn to eat like a civilized being, huh?" she dug her fingers into her sides just enough to make her giggle, which she did at once, causing the right strap of her overall to slip when she twitched.

Laying another kiss on her cheek as she pulled her back into her chest, Mary went to the cabinets to see if she could find something else for her daughter to eat. But perusing her choices, her mother knew she'd just have a tantrum on her hands because Norah was rapidly getting sick of strained food. Per Brandi's request, her little one was back on the counter and Mary set about peeling a banana instead.

"Here Bug…" she didn't bother with a knife and instead just tore off bites with her fingers. "Have some of this…"

Norah took the piece of the fruit and smashed it in her pudgy fingers a few times before Mary guided a hand to her mouth and made her eat it. They went through this process twice before her cell started ringing and Mary fished it out of her pocket with smudgy, sticky fingers to answer.

"This is Mary…" she responded, not able to look at the ID what with trying to keep Norah from throwing all of her food and coating the counter with it.

"Hey, it's me," Mark's voice floated through. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing earth-shattering…" Mary didn't care for small talk. "Norah's having dinner. What do you need?"

"Norah," he replied simply. "Well, kind of. My mom was hoping we could have her for part of the holiday weekend. She wanted to take her to this fair they have in Cimarron. You can come too if you want."

"How generous of you…" Mary groused, marginally irritated he'd tried to finagle this without talking to her first, using her free hand to save chewed-up banana from landing on the floor. "Come on love, eat it…" she coached, poking it into her open mouth. "Where did you say it is again?" she hadn't been listening closely enough.

"Cimarron," Mark replied, being patient.

Mary calculated briefly, trying to make sure she was doing the math right because she'd only been to Cimarron once as far as she could remember. Marshall had an old witness stashed out there back when they'd still been allowed to place throughout the state.

"Mark…no…" she was short with him as she realized. "It's three hours from Albuquerque to Cimarron; you'd have to take her all day and I don't want her riding in the car for that long…"

"Mare, we'd stop along the way," he rationalized. "And besides, I said you could come too. I thought we'd make a day of it; it'll be fun."

"Yeah, my idea of 'fun' is not driving in the boiling sun for some hundred-and-eighty-miles just to go to some schmaltzy festival with fiddlers and accordion-players where I'm expected to belt out, 'My Country Tis of Thee,'" she snarked, and was so busy coming up with this rebuttal she forgot to keep an eye on Norah, who promptly squashed her fourth slice of banana right to the bib on her overalls.

Mary groaned and shut her eyes, "Come on, N…"

'N' was yet another moniker, and she wondered if she'd ever call her child by her real name one of these days.

"What's she doing?" Mark asked, perhaps trying to smooth over Mary's dismissal of his idea.

"Nothing," Mary wasn't going to let him get away with that and tried to undo the straps on the overalls, which is how she remembered the laundry she still hadn't begun. "It's not my kind of thing, Mark," she referred to his trip again.

"Well then, don't go," was his easy solution. "But I'd still like to take Norah."

Couldn't he see that she wasn't a fan of that idea either? She and Mark got along much better than they used to, it was true, but his need to spend so much time with Norah was weirdly annoying on some level. She'd been so concerned he wouldn't step up and now he was going above and beyond. But didn't he get that this was her kid too? He couldn't just grab her whenever he wanted.

Perhaps sensing where his ex's mind was headed, Mark tried again to sweeten the deal, "I really wish you'd come…"

She hadn't even said _Norah_ could go yet.

"Mark, I really can't…" she insisted. "Honestly. Someone needs to stay here with Brandi," she fabricated somewhat off the top of her head, not knowing she felt as much until she'd said it aloud.

"What do you mean?" Mark questioned, sounding a little bothered. "What's wrong with Brandi?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with Brandi…" Mary corrected him. "Nothing in the realm of life-threatening or anything. But if I go, she's gonna be calling me every five minutes complaining about some knocked-up disorder," she assumed. "Better to just stay here and keep her from going off the deep end."

"Well, whatever…" Mark resolved to let that one go. "But why can't I take Norah out? Wouldn't you like some time to yourself?"

Mary's time to herself was indeed limited anymore now that Brandi was crashing at the house and she had a little girl who was almost a year old, but she hadn't been relishing a weekend by herself. A quiet weekend was not the same as a lonely one, and she found she became lonely much easier these days. She wasn't sure if it was because she'd gotten so used to having Norah around, or if it was something deeper. Something like James, maybe.

"I wanted to spend time with her too, Mark…" she admitted in a small voice, ignoring her daughter's ill-timed squeal as her mother unstrapped her overalls. "Isn't there something a little closer to home you could drag her to? You really have to go all the way out to the boondocks?"

Mark sighed, but was defeated, "I'll see what I can do. Are you good for the night?"

"Am I good for the night?"

"Well, I've gotta head out to Santa Fe for a deal I'm closing tomorrow morning…" he explained. "I wanted to make sure you had Norah covered."

"What are you, the happy traveler now?" Mary joked.

"It's an early thing; the guy's going to the lake with his family tomorrow afternoon," he went on. "I would've been back in plenty of time to hang out with the kid."

"Lovely…" Mary did not have a good response to that. "But yes, we're fine."

"All right," Mark agreed. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Can't wait," she laced the phrase with sarcasm as she usually did and hung up without saying goodbye, sliding the phone onto the counter and working on getting Norah undressed the rest of the way.

However, it appeared her child was not a fan of having her clothes taken off right now and shrieked at the top of her lungs, batting Mary's hands away as tears sprung to her eyes.

"No…!" she voiced, one of the few words she could and did articulate on a regular basis. "No-no!"

"I know, I know…" Mary rushed to get the job done so she would not completely fall apart. "Give me half a second…"

Unfortunately, the chaos was going to continue to rein no matter how Mary tried to bring it to a halt because a second cry mingled with her baby's, one Mary did not want to deal with at the moment.

"Mary!"

What could Brandi possibly want? She'd only gone back to the guest room ten minutes ago. Surely she could wait and Mary reminded herself that her sister was not helpless. If she really needed something she could get it herself.

"Hang on!" the woman bellowed and she was swift as she swept off the rest of Norah's outfit, leaving her in just the T-shirt and her diaper. She was glad it was warm out.

Grabbing the little girl with one arm, she flung her dirty overalls into the laundry room and deposited her in her playpen in the living room.

"Be good…" Mary ordered, as though Norah might actually understand, but she was clearly happy to be left alone and un-prodded at this point. "I'm gonna see what your aunt's screeching about."

Mary jogged on back to the guest room, wondering with each passing stride why she was putting herself through all these motions, mind whirring with Doctor Finkel's words that she constantly needed someone to protect. It was in her blood. She didn't know how to change it.

"What?" was her less-than-happy greeting when she thrust the door open. "You become incapable of walking now?"

Brandi let that go for the most part, but Mary noticed she was looking fairly upset from where she was perched on her side on the bed. She was using one elbow to hold herself upright, and her face fell forward into her palm of the hand on that same arm. Mary saw the tears, but was really more interested in why she'd been summoned.

"What?" she repeated.

"I don't know what to do…" Brandi croaked.

"About what?" Mary walked in a little further, around the side of the bed by the end table.

"My back…" her voice was shaking and the tears presented themselves with the second sentence, reddening the younger sister's eyes. "I can't do _anything_. I can't walk, I can't lie down; it's killing me Mary…"

In the back of her mind, Mary still thought Brandi might be overdoing it on the pain, but she was certainly distressed at this point. She'd also lasted all day and was just now complaining this heartily. She supposed it was possible her sister was suffering some kind of hurt Mary had not experienced this much in excess.

"Is it really that bad?" she tried to sound gentle and not accusatory.

Mary was also lost for how to proceed and, for whatever reason reached over Brandi's stomach and placed what she hoped were temperate fingers to her spine. She didn't feel anything, although she didn't know what she expected to feel either.

"Where is it the worst?" she asked. "Upper back or lower?"

"Low…" she sniffled. "And across my middle…" she caressed her abdomen.

"Your middle?" Mary's ears perked up at this and she stepped back, fixing Brandi with a critical eye. "Are you having contractions?"

Brandi shook her head somewhat confidently, "No. I don't think so. It hurts all the time, not in bursts like when I'm having Braxton Hicks."

"Okay…" Mary breathed, trying to think. "I don't know what to tell you, Squish. Just…try to relax, I guess…" was her best advice. "If you're this bad off tomorrow, you should go in."

The last bit didn't improve Brandi's mood and even caused some more tears to leak out, but she didn't say anything. Mary considered calling Marshall to see if he'd ever heard about anything like this, if he knew what it might mean so she could ease Brandi's mind. But then she remembered Marshall had enough to be going on with and that she couldn't run to him with every little thing.

The three Shannon women could handle it just fine.

XXX

**A/N: Thank-you all, again, for reviewing! I say it a lot, but I really mean it!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay friends, I know it is super early for an update but we are having majorly bizarre Internet issues at home, and so while I have the surge I am going for it. Know that if I don't appear for some reason in the next few days; I haven't abandoned you. The story is still written and should still be posted barring problems with my server! Ack! Hope I don't have to leave you all just when this is getting started!**

XXX

When Mary worked hard enough, she discovered that entertaining and keeping Brandi calm was not outside the realm of possibilities. For many years prior, she'd just assumed Brandi was a head case and not to be reasoned with. While this was still certainly true on some level, if Mary gave it her all she did a pretty decent job keeping her sister's two feet on the ground.

That was why she dragged Norah's playpen into the guest room – making it a tight fit – and sat on the bed with Brandi, trying to help her shift when she got too uncomfortable in hopes she would drift off to sleep. It was a little early for bedtime, but considering how stressed she was Mary was willing to bet she'd be ready to crash as soon as she could manage it.

Mary was lying with her feet on the pillow, her head at the base while Brandi twirled a strand of hair idly around her finger, sprawled in a kind of ungraceful eagle-spread on her side of the bed. Neither one could see the other's face, but it kind of kept things more even that way.

"I was thinking earlier…" Mary revealed, allowing her eyes to flick sideways to check on Norah, who was happily chewing one of her block toys. "With this supposed-holiday coming up on Sunday…"

"Yeah?" came Brandi's voice from the other end.

"When I was about…four…" she continued, taking her turn at fiddling with the stray strands of hair falling in her face. "So, before you were born…" she diverted slightly. "Daddy gave me this cheap, crappy sparkler," now she attempted a laugh.

"Yeah?" Brandi repeated herself, working to get into it, to find something else to focus on.

Mary had shifted and her head was practically on Brandi's feet as she went on, "But he told me it was like I was holding a piece of the stars. And that night, all the stars would go out and I was the only one who'd be able to find their way in the dark…" she continued. "That my sparkler would light up the whole sky with pretty reds and blues and purples – like I was making the fireworks."

"Really?" Brandi chuckled, hoarse and scratchy like sandpaper.

"What a load, right?" Mary laughed too.

But then she went quiet, reflecting on that time a little more thoroughly. That image of her father pushing the treat into her hands, talking to her like she hung the moon, like she really could grope her way along no matter how deep the shadows; it persisted. She hung onto it like she hung onto everything he gave her, no matter how few and far between.

"I believed him though," she finally whispered in a hushed voice, fingers halting in her hair.

Norah gave a sweet, soft coo from beside her and she reminded Mary she ought to get her to bed soon. She'd be rocking and rolling the rest of the night if her mother let her, but that mother made no move to get up. The sounds of her daughter were distant right now; she couldn't quite pull them in.

"Mare, you're just lucky you have memories of him that are any good…" Brandi interjected from the top of the bed. "All I've got is…" Mary could almost hear the wheels turning in Brandi's head trying to find a decent word to sum it up and she simply landed on, "I don't know. What?"

Mary didn't know what to say to that, having suspected that Brandi's never having known James had been much harder on her after he'd died and she hadn't gotten to see him – while Mary had. They didn't discuss it, but she was pretty sure Brandi talked it over ad nauseam with Jinx when Mary wasn't around.

"You want to swap places?" the older sister couldn't help defending her position. "Be the one that got to hold him in your arms while he died? Be my guest…" she emitted a very bitter laugh, although there was nothing funny about it.

Mary knew her retort had shut Brandi up, possibly making her uncomfortable in more than just the physical sense this time. The longer Mary thought about it, the more she realized there really was no good answer here, and she'd really just opened the door for Brandi to ask questions. And there was little hesitation once Brandi realized it as well.

"Mare…" she was intelligent enough to be cautious about it. "That, I mean…" obviously there was not tactful wording anywhere in here. "That had to have been…" she was assuming now. "I mean, terrible for you…"

It was best Mary couldn't see her, but her answer wouldn't have been different even if she could have.

"I don't want to do this, Squish," she admitted at once. "It's my own fault for bringing it up, but I really don't have the energy."

Brandi accepted this for the most part, "But…sometime?" she wanted to know. "You'll tell me more? About the last…?"

Mary wasn't sure how the rest of that sentence was going to go, but it was chased out of Brandi to make way for a startled and clearly pain-stricken gasp. The older sister could tell from the way Brandi's feet jerked and knocked her head aside that she'd sprung a little in the unexpected flicker. Mary pushed herself off the mattress to see well.

"What?" she prompted, noting that Brandi had one hand agitatedly rubbing her lower back, the other making circles on the right side of her stomach. "What's the deal?"

"Nothing…" not a word that Brandi typically used when in distress. "It just really hurts and I wish I knew what was wrong…"

"Brandi, I'm sure it's not anything to worry about," Mary figured. "The kid's probably just rolling around in there trying to find a good spot. Once it settles in, you'll be good to go."

Still, she couldn't help thinking that two weeks until delivery was going to be an awfully long time if Brandi continued to have issues like this. Mary imagined she was going to have to get Jinx to look in on her more frequently, not just for Brandi but for Norah.

"Show me where again…" Mary directed, somewhat out of curiosity, and she gestured for Brandi to roll onto her other side while she got up to take a look.

Her sister did as told and then flung an arm over her back to touch the spot where it smarted most. Mary could hear her breathing a little deeply from the opposite end of the bed. She was cautious as she touched again, her fingers meeting Brandi's on the sore place.

"There?"

A low exhale, "…Yeah…"

Mary spread her fingers flat, careful not to press or push too much, scanning for anything abnormal but there was nothing there. She moved her palm up to the center of Brandi's back, feeling foolish for pretending she was some sort of doctor, but discovered her muscles weren't nearly as tight further up. Boosted by the revelation, she transferred back to where she'd been before and found that there was a slight pinching there if she concentrated hard enough, like the limbs were seizing, constricting together…

Contracting.

Mary swallowed; "You're tense down here…" she started light. "Maybe if you get some sleep and relax a little you'll ease up," she was making this up as she went, never having heard of contractions that happened in your back.

That wasn't what this was – surely. It might be, but couldn't it be something else as well? Brandi seemed more consistently and constantly in pain for this to be the only problem.

"How am I supposed to sleep when I feel like this?" she protested predictably.

"I don't know…" Mary shrugged. "But I'm gonna get Norah ready for bed. Just…hang out; don't go crazy," was her aptly-used wisdom. "I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning."

"Fine…" Brandi had no choice but to believe this, but Mary saw her shoulders slump and sag in the acceptance, even from this side of the bed.

Mary had never done well with emotions, but since trying to let Marshall move on a little, she almost felt like she'd had to learn how to be sensitive on her own time. She didn't have that balance like she used to, and surely it was good for Norah on some level. Maybe for Brandi as well?

And anyway, empathy didn't mean you had to become a complete sap in the process. Tentatively, Mary put a hand to Brandi's hair falling onto her profile and patted lightly. She convinced herself the action itself was enough to placate her sister for the time being and left it at that, no words to botch the situation.

When Brandi didn't protest her needing to get her daughter tucked in, Mary left her post and ventured back to the playpen, lifting Norah up and into her arms.

"Come with me, Bug…" she whispered, patting her butt to see whether or not she was wet. "Time for bed."

Her little one shifted and nuzzled her head into Mary's shoulder, rubbing her eyes into the fabric of her shirt, emitting something between a whimper but also a sigh of contentment. She was sleepy and worn-out, but happy to be in Mary's arms. She took care to shut the door part-way with her exit, relieved to see Brandi was at least trying to conk out with her eyes shut.

Once she had Norah changed and safely ensconced in her crib in what used to the office, breathing deeply through her nose, she had a change of heart about getting some information. It wasn't intrusive to just plumb Marshall for some facts, was it? Confirming that this whole thing was nothing would make Brandi feel better and Mary was trying to avoid going back to her too soon and reinforcing her problems.

Settling on the couch, she pulled out her phone and dialed her old partner, disliking that thought with each ring. On the third, he picked up.

"Hey…" he sounded a little uncertain, and Mary wondered what that was about. "What's up? We got a situation?" he assumed that a lot these days, trying to keep himself in check to make sure he went about each and every instance with proper protocol.

"No…" Mary told him. "I mean, not like you're thinking," she made a solid stab at laughing. "Sorry – did I catch you at home?"

"Well yeah, I just got in about a half hour ago…" he reported, for which Mary was grateful. "But it's no problem…"

"Are you sure?" Mary interrupted before he could continue.

"I am sure," there was no wavering evident in his reassurance. "We are not cutting each other off; we are still friends," he said this a lot too, almost as though he needed the reminder. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I won't keep you…" she was thinking of Abigail, wondering if she was anywhere nearby. "I just had a…" she swallowed. "Well, a question," she wasn't sure why this was so hard.

"About?"

"Well, I mentioned Brandi whining about her back earlier?" she posed, waiting to see if he remembered.

"Yeah."

"Now she's acting like she's in agony, and I tried to figure out what was going on to shut her up…" she was working at sounding obnoxious here, something she excelled at. "And I couldn't feel anything, except I thought her back seemed really knotted up where it was hurting her…"

"Like she was having contractions?" Marshall slipped in smoothly.

Mary knew she'd called the right person. She speculated on whether Marshall had been an OBGYN in a former life. Or if she actually believed in such things, she would've.

"But, that can't happen, can it?" Mary presumed, for her own peace of mind now.

"Actually, it can," Marshall was sorry to say. "She could be having back labor where all the contractions are experienced there, in which case the pain would be pretty constant…"

Shit.

"Or, the baby could be facing the wrong way," he offered.

Mary took pause at this, also never having heard of such a thing. How many directions could a kid turn in such a small space?

"What way is that?" she didn't care to guess.

"Let's just go with not the most common one…" Marshall spared her elaboration and details and then cut to the chase. "Just keep an eye on her – which I'm sure you already are – and go to the hospital tomorrow if she doesn't improve."

Mary could've told herself all that and more, so why did she need the validation from Marshall? Was she especially hungry for it anymore since she knew she had to release him in some way or another? Still friends they might be, but trying to respect those boundaries hadn't been easy for her. It was so typical of her – taking for granted until she couldn't have it anymore.

"Yeah…" she nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

"Sure," Marshall replied. "Keep me posted if things heat up," he requested.

"Right," Mary promised. "See you."

She hung up before Marshall could bid her farewell, much as she had done with Mark earlier. Although he hadn't given her the response she'd wanted, it was something of a comfort to have a few opinions on what could be happening. In any case, she didn't plan to share either of them with Brandi unless things, as Marshall had said, 'heated up.'

Leaving her phone on the coffee table, Mary stood to rejoin Brandi, but was pleased to see even through the crack she'd left in the door that she had dozed off along with her niece. If it were Mary, she wouldn't have considered the position comfortable at all, as her sister was somewhat tilted to one side, hand on her tummy, the other partially supporting her ailing back. But if it brought her relief, she wasn't one to argue.

Treading lightly trying not to wake her, Mary crossed the room to turn the lamp off and unfortunately made enough noise that she stirred with the motion. Mary did her best to talk her back beneath, thinking they'd done enough for one night.

"Squish, go back to sleep," she implored in a whisper. "I'm gonna start that laundry and then I'm going to bed too."

"Mmm…" Brandi hummed incoherently, but fortunately did not attempt to rise. "Were you talking to someone in the living room?"

"…Just saying goodnight to Norah," Mary invented quickly. "Try to get some rest, okay?" she was fighting hard to keep her calm, gentle demeanor in check. "You'll feel better in the morning," she hoped this was true.

"Okay…" Brandi sighed, obviously trying not to move from her semi-relaxed stance. "Mare?" she probed once the lights had been killed and they were swept in darkness, just shadows and hunched silhouettes in the gloom.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sitting with me…" she murmured tiredly. "It was really nice of you…"

Mary wanted to tell her she _wasn't_ nice and not to go repeating that to anyone to whom it might matter, but she knew her sister was trying to show her gratitude, trying to show she wasn't simply taking without any give now – that there was an effort being presented. Mary knew she couldn't shut that down completely.

"I said we'd do this together," she reminded her. "This is together. Not a big deal."

Brandi didn't respond to this, didn't press her luck with gushing thankfulness and shifted within once more, eager to let the sleep take her away.

Mary could safely say that after a day of witnesses, trying to forge a bond with Marshall – something she _never_ had to do – and dealing with Mark, Norah, and Brandi, she was ready for the same.

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Hope you'll continue that for me! ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am glad I have people that are enjoying! I'm into baby stories, so you tend to get a lot of that from me LOL!**

XXX

The noise woke Mary around four in the morning. In actuality, it was probably close to three-thirty, but she laid in bed for such a long time trying to ignore the sound she guessed at least a half hour had passed by the time she looked at the clock. At first, she thought maybe it was Norah but it sounded too close by to be her daughter all the way out near the kitchen.

This meant it was probably Brandi.

Resigned, apprehension in her gut at remembering what Marshall had told her earlier, Mary clambered clumsily out of bed, almost tripping on the frame in her haste to get to the door. Rubbing her eyes with one of her fingers, she saw that the door to the guest room was open and the one to the bathroom was shut, light peeking beneath the gap where the frame didn't meet the floor.

Knocking softly and shuffling in her drawstring pants, Mary stuck her head in and tried not to appear too blinded by the sudden burst of light.

"Brandi…?" she murmured.

Blinking once, and then several more times, Mary's surroundings came into focus and she saw that her sister was sitting on the toilet seat. Tears were streaming down her face, her cheeks rosy, her eyes bloodshot; even her hands were shaking. She could also see that she'd changed clothes from when Mary had left her earlier, but the ones she'd had on were in a ball on the floor like this might be a recent development.

"Brandi…" Mary repeated, stepping inside all the way and leaning on the sink to get a good look. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

But, her sister either couldn't speak or wouldn't because all she did was mop at her eyes, swiping them across the arm of her roomy pajama top. Mary began to get impatient, something she was definitely known for.

"Squish, I _can't_ help you if I don't know what's going on," she was reasonable and also firm. "Spit it out."

Brandi did not make much of an effort to pull it together and instead sniffled a lot, dripping everywhere and making unsightly noises of distress, discomfort, fear – Mary really didn't know which. She just stared, eyes on her until she could work up the courage to reveal whatever was on her mind.

"I'm bleeding," she finally came up with, which made her cry harder; her shoulders trembling and wracking with the sobs.

Mary did her best not to appear startled and proceeded as delicately as she could, "Bleeding. Where?"

Brandi gave her a look that clearly said her question was stupid, and Mary realized as soon as it came out of her mouth. Still, she really didn't feel all hope was lost here and intended to make this known without giving away too much unneeded information.

"I think a little blood is normal…" she ventured, not wanting to go too in-depth here, but remembering a few things from her own pregnancy. "You're toward the end. Especially then," okay, she might have been making that part up; she wasn't sure.

"But Mary, there was…" she shook her head, droplets flying now; some leaking into her hair. "There was a lot and I'm scared…"

Mary wasn't sure she could blame her at this point – the unyielding, steady back pain, lower abdominal aches, and now this. She had been there, even partially, and none of it was fun. Regardless, she couldn't let Brandi fly off the handle even if she understood.

But, Brandi was already halfway there. The admission seemed to be like a release, and everything else came pouring out; Brandi-style all the way.

"I'm scared and I'm sorry…" now there was guilt along with it. "I'm sorry; I'm making everything such a mess but I don't know what's happening; I don't think this is normal, it's not anything like what I've been reading about…"

Mary was about to cut her off, but she gulped and kept right on going.

"I'm not ready…" she gasped dramatically, staring up at her sister with huge, watery eyes. "Mary, I'm not ready."

Been there. Been there, and been there. So much so it was somewhat terrifying.

"Brandi, hush or you're going to wake up Norah…" Mary responded, somewhat unhelpfully but getting that problem out of the way seemed to be job one. "Just…try to chill out…"

She walked toward her now, trying to form the best plan of action. She didn't know enough about pregnancy, labor, or delivery to have a good handle on this. Norah had come way too soon and way too quickly; she'd never intended to do any research on birth and had run out of time before she could even consider it. Mostly, she was thinking she definitely couldn't call Marshall now to figure this out.

One phone call at four in the morning was enough for the year.

"Mary, I'm sorry…" Brandi was speaking again, but the elder didn't entirely understand the need for all the apologies. "I'm so sorry…"

"Squish, its okay…" Mary promised, not even knowing _what_ was okay but it didn't matter. "It's all right. Listen, I can't pretend I know what the deal is here…" she conceded. "If something's gone wonky, they'll be able to tell you what it is at the hospital."

"I don't want to go to the hospital," Brandi shook her head slowly from side-to-side, looking even more inundated with fear at the suggestion.

"Sorry," Mary shrugged. "Tough luck. I don't know the drill on this one; we're gonna have to go to the field to find out."

Brandi looked increasingly sickened by the idea, but Mary didn't have a better one. When the younger sister didn't make a move to get up and get cracking, the older fished for a few more pertinent facts that she was pretty sure she already knew the answer to but it didn't hurt to be sure.

"Does your back still hurt?" she asked, taking a few more steps toward Brandi and seeing she was going to need some help getting out of here.

As she'd suspected, the pregnant one nodded at the question and instinctively put a hand there as though to check, like Mary had only just reminded her.

"Squish, come on…" she tried to sound slightly gruff, somewhat no-nonsense just to get this process started and held out her hand. "Throw a few things together while I get something lined up for Norah. Someone's gonna straighten this out."

Mary was too busy thinking about _what_ to line up for Norah to notice Brandi still wasn't moving, still wasn't willing to make the leap no matter how even-keel Mary might be. She was trying, she really was, but she began to wonder if anything was going to get Brandi out of here. Words of Marshall's, as though from a former life, coursed through her mind at that moment, ones she thought applied very well.

"_You prefer a known situation that is deeply flawed to an unknown situation potentially free of flaws."_

It was the not-knowing that was scary. Down the road, some white-coat-professional could fix this for Brandi but getting there was frightening and it was easier to stay rooted in one place so you didn't have to hear what might be wrong. Even if the end result was better than the current set of circumstances.

"Brandi…" Mary whispered, pulling her hand back and crouching on her knees to look her in the eyes. "I know this sucks," she worked some of the old roughness in there. "It does. But we're not going to have a clue what's going on if we sit around here all night. Someone needs to take a look at you," she pressed each word distinctly in hopes that Brandi would get the message. "Come on Squish…"

She stood back up, through with the touchy-feely aspect of the conversation, but then thought after she saw the haranguing look of hope in Brandi's big blue eyes that she could tack a small something else on the end to perhaps seal the deal.

"I don't want anything to happen to you and I can't help you with this."

Mary swallowed, internally backtracking on that statement, hoping Brandi would take it to heart for the time being but not throw it in somewhere later. She didn't need the whole world to know that she'd showed some measure of compassion. To refute this, she reverted to her original words.

"I've gotta go make a plan for Norah," she repeated. "When I'm through, we'll go."

She said it in a way that Brandi maybe couldn't argue with it and didn't wait for her approval before she strode back to the door and disappeared through it to the hall, realizing in her wake that her sister hadn't said a word since warding off the hospital. Maybe she was trying to gather enough gumption to get through whatever lay ahead.

Into the living room, hating herself with every step, Mary had to force herself to wake the serenely sleeping baby in the crib. It was an insane prospect, like playing fire, and she just hoped Norah wouldn't be too grumpy when she roused.

When Mary reached in to pull her out, her daughter didn't stir right away and instead shifted in her sleep, finding comfort in Mary's chest. Holding her close, her mother rocked her back and forth, unable to help herself from stroking the fine strands of hair on her head, watching her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.

But the bliss didn't last and Norah came to, whimpering and whining softly and uncertainly, not sure why she wasn't in her crib and sensing, somewhere deep down, that she was not supposed to be awake at this hour.

"Shh…I know Bug…" Mary soothed, rubbing circles onto her back. "I know…"

Thinking and attempting to calm Norah simultaneously was no easy task, but Mary tried turning people over in her mind; who the best case scenario would be to leave with her child this early in the morning.

Once Jinx knew what was going on, there was no way she was going to stay home and Mary didn't exactly relish phoning her during this time of day, and the latter could also be said for Joanna. Both of them had been helpful in spades and dragging them out of their beds didn't seem right, despite Joanna's particular insistence that she could come to the rescue day or night.

Mark was in Santa Fe, so he was no good. Her conversation with him seemed ages ago, and was replaying like an old film through her mind, him asking if she could handle the baby for the evening.

Then there was Marshall. She _wanted_ to send Norah off with him. The idea of her in those long, lanky, swooping, protective arms was just the picture her mind was cooking up. But, she couldn't do it; a step back in their relationship didn't include asking if he could watch her daughter in the wee hours of the morning. Something about this seemed different though, like it wasn't really _her_ that needed him, but Norah. A defenseless little baby. His best friend's baby.

Right? They were still best friends. Weren't they?

Struck by a fit of inspiration, Mary ventured into the kitchen and put Norah atop the counter where she rubbed her dark eyes with her fists, looking sleepy and put-out.

"Who's my good girl?" her mother crooned, leaning over to kiss her head in praise for not coming completely undone. "You get to take a little nightly excursion, my friend…"

Mary picked up her phone and found the name in her contacts – it wasn't exactly hard, seeing as how it was the first one on the list – and dialed, waiting through the rings and rubbing Norah's back at the same time.

She heard the voice on ring number four, mentally preparing herself for this conversation, wondering if her little plan would actually work.

"Detective Chaffee…" came Abigail's groggy tone, laced with less southern this early in the day.

The woman in the kitchen swallowed hard, "Abigail. Sorry I woke you. It's Mary."

There was a pause, and Mary had a shrewd idea it didn't have to do with her being shaken from sleep, like the interrupted slumber had affected her coherence. It was getting a call from Mary that was doing it.

"Anyway…" she went on when Abigail didn't say anything else. "I know this timing is a bitch, and I'm sure you and Marshall have plans for the holiday weekend, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

Ugh. Ugh-ugh-ugh. She was really reaching for this. Mary _hated_ asking for favors, of making it seem as though anybody was going out of their way for her. She just ordered people around and had done with it. But, if she wanted Norah with Marshall she was going to have to step outside the box.

"Sure…" Abigail responded, politeness she'd developed surging through her veins, although she sounded very unsure. "What is it?"

"My sister Brandi is having some sort of baby-related conundrum; I'm not sure what's going on…" Mary explained swiftly. "But, she's thirty-eight weeks and I guess she could be in labor but I need to get her to the hospital to make sure. Would you and Marshall mind looking after Norah for me?"

She'd done this on purpose – called Abigail instead of Marshall. It seemed less intrusive to her, like she actually trusted Abigail to do right by her daughter, like she recognized they were a couple. Surely the other woman could see that; could see this really was a simple favor for a friend and nothing else.

"Sure…" Abigail repeated, getting with the program a little better now. "We offered lots of times; I just didn't think you'd take us up on it…"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Mary joked, and felt a leap in her heart as she heard Brandi moving around back in the bedrooms. "And undoubtedly some work thing is going to come up for one of you, so just give me a call back if things get dicey and I can reel in Mark's mom to do the honors."

"All right," Abigail agreed. "We'll see you in a bit, then?"

"Yeah," Mary reinforced. "See you soon."

She hung up, feeling marginally proud of herself for going the alternative route. Her daughter would still be in Marshall's very capable hands, but she'd kept things neutral. She hadn't begged, she hadn't inspired guilt, and she'd even gotten Abigail in on the action. Maybe this little plan would help the fiancée see that her relationship with Marshall didn't interfere with theirs.

With everything else going on, it really was the least she could hope for.

XXX

**A/N: Isn't Mary clever? LOL. Thanks again for the reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hopefully you guys will like this chapter! It's a little short, but it's almost exclusively our two favorite Marshal's. **

XXX

The drive to Marshall's took twenty minutes, by which point Mary's patience was starting to thin. Norah was fussy and agitated in the backseat and Brandi, while not becoming a total basket case was what Mary thought must be desperately uncomfortable. Riding in the car did not do wonders for her bad back and she could hardly sit still, shifting side-to-side trying to find some relief. It was a murky trip; punctuated very strangely with Norah's cries and the rustling of Brandi every couple of seconds through the darkness.

Mary was grateful when they finally made it, and she issued instructions to Brandi while she got out to get Norah unstrapped.

"Squish, why don't you come in with me?" she suggested, head buried in the backseat trying to deal with her flailing child. "Give your back a break."

But Brandi shook her head and bit her lip, "I'll never get back in otherwise," she rotated onto her right, facing the window which was pointed toward Marshall's house.

"Fine…" Mary lamented, frustrated with Norah for acting so unpleasant when she was about to dump her on Marshall and Abigail. "N, give me a chance here…" she boosted the squirmy baby onto her hip, also balanced by the diaper bag.

Huffing, she was about to slam the door shut when she added one last word to Brandi, who was looking tired and also limp from all the fidgeting she was doing.

"I'll try not to be too long," she promised. "I'll get her dropped off and be right back."

"Okay…" Brandi's eyes were closed, clearly trying not to cry. "I'll wait."

Mary wasn't all that comfortable leaving her by herself in the dark car, but figured if she were really that bad off she would go ahead and come along. Norah couldn't walk _herself_ to the door, and Mary didn't intend to spend a ton of time with the soon-to-be-newlyweds.

Kicking the door shut with her foot, she shuffled her way through the grass on the lawn to get to the front door, which someone had taken care to open. She faced the screen separating her from the entryway, the smallest sliver of floor and wall visible behind the crack. Fortunately, Norah seemed to settle a little with the potentially interesting unknown and hiccupped a few times. Mary knocked lightly, but didn't wait to be invited, stepped onto the ledge, and inside.

It was cooler in the house than outdoors, but no less dark, and Mary felt nothing but liberation in seeing that the person who'd gotten up to greet her was not Abigail. It was Marshall, sitting upright on the couch, eyes shut, but she was pretty sure he wasn't sleeping. He proved the point when he flickered to life at the sound of the door shutting.

"Hey…" he yawned as he stood, stretching out the kinks in his back.

Mary walked over so he wouldn't have to; "Hi…" she deposited the diaper bag on his sofa, still clutching Norah. "I appreciate this; I'm sorry…" now she sounded like Brandi.

"Forget it; we're happy to help," Marshall assured her in a whisper. "Besides, you can't take a kid to the hospital. Worry about Brandi, we'll take care of this one…" he poked a long and gentle finger into Norah's belly and she tried to grab it in her own but he was too fast for her, making her giggle softly when he pulled away.

Mary smiled at the interaction, "Everything you need should be in the bag," she went through the run-down. "If not, you've got a key to my place and I told Abigail I could get Joanna if…"

"Mary, relax…" Marshall held up a hand to silence her. "She's in good hands; I promise."

She nodded, trying to believe that, wondering when Abigail was going to come out and make her presence known, but she supposed Marshall had gotten up so she wouldn't have to. The classic, doting husband. Or husband-to-be. Right.

"Well, her schedule's going to be screwed up…" Mary figured he wouldn't know this. "She usually naps at eleven but being up at the crack-of-dawn will probably have her down by nine."

"We'll wing it," Marshall teased, still troubling to keep his voice down.

Seeing that Mary wasn't going to give up until he initiated, the chief held out his arms, indicating for her to pass Norah off. She did with little reluctance, but was anxious about leaving her and also anxious about having Brandi in the car for too long.

However, watching Marshall with her daughter made her wonder why she'd never gone this route before when she'd needed a sitter. He held her aloft with ease, like she was weightless in just one of his arms, and she ran her little fingers all over his face, like she was testing the stubble across his chin.

"Hi beautiful…" he whispered, taking one of those wandering hands and bringing it to his lips, pressing them to her nails. "Oh, you're getting to be such a big girl…" he went on. "Mommy must feed you well."

He raised his eyebrows at Mary, who gave a weak chuckle. She was less concerned now, but not wanting to leave came for a different reason this time. She wanted to watch this show unfold.

"We're gonna have a nice time…" he told the baby girl, trying to catch her big dark eyes with his blue ones, tweaking her chubby cheek. "Who knows? Maybe when Auntie Brandi gets back you'll have a new cousin."

"Huh…" Mary's chuckle was a little more bitter this time, cluing her in to one of the real reasons she might be nervous. "I can't decide if I'm up for that yet or not."

"Is she okay?" Marshall asked, halting his playtime with Norah, who had become interested in a spot on the T-shirt he wore as a pajama top. "I mean that of the, 'as well as can be expected' variety, of course."

Mary shrugged, wanting to appear unabashed but the prospect of becoming Brandi's coach or being the one anywhere near her when this kid made its appearance was starting to weigh heavy. Not to mention, she really wasn't sure if what was going on was normal at all. How was she supposed to have that kind of intuition?

"Hell if I know," she murmured, following with a second shrug. "I guess we're about to find out."

"Mare, trust me when I tell you; back labor is tough," Marshall reported, running his fingers along Norah's spine almost without thinking. "If that's what she's having, it's not such a wonder she's in a lot of pain."

"How do you know about all this crap anyway?" Mary couldn't resist asking, sticking a hand on her hip. "I really think your pregnancy fetish has gotten out of control, Poindexter."

"Guilty as charged," Marshall admitted in an undertone with a small smile. "I just think it's a fascinating process. A human being actually carrying another human being?" Mary could tell by the awe in his face he actually believed such a thing. "Pretty incredible when you think about it."

"Yeah, see how incredible you think it is when you're the one that's got some kid squeezing the life out of your insides and making every inch of you inflate like some hot air balloon," she quipped.

"Come on…" Marshall smirked. "Males can't handle the intensity of childbirth. A much greater power put females in charge of something as vastly essential as creating life."

Mary knew there was a compliment in there somewhere and didn't have enough of her wits about her to try to continue their banter. Seeing her obligatory, softened smile cast somewhat away from him, Marshall shifted Norah higher and went on with what might as well be a prepared speech at this point.

"Brandi will manage," he assured her. "The best and the worst of women have made it through in their own way and their own time. Including this one," he jerked his head at his former partner with a hint of admiration in his gaze.

"I know…" Mary shook her head, attempting to sound confident. "It's not that she _can't_; I'm just…" a sigh accompanied the gesture and she knew she had to get a move on. "I really wasn't expecting this tonight," she gave an unfeeling laugh.

"I know," Marshall repeated. "Just do your best with her. You've been there; you know what it's like. Be supportive, be patient, and she'll come out the other side just fine."

"Because those really _are_ my best traits…" Mary couldn't resist pointing out, knowing she was being called upon to pull in resolve she might not possess.

"They're in there," Marshall insisted. "Somewhere. Buried within. You have to go on an excavation to find them sometimes, I concede, but…"

"All right…" Mary was pleased he'd started making fun and was able to smile for real. "I've gotta get going; Brandi's going to have a fit if I stay in here much longer."

"Okay," Marshall agreed. "I'll walk you out."

It was about twelve steps to the door, but Mary chose not to object as he accompanied her to the hatch, carting Norah who was still doing her examination of his T-shirt like her life depended on it. Once inside the frame, Mary stopped briefly so Brandi could see she was on her way and turned to bid Marshall farewell.

"Thanks again for doing this," she reinforced. "Thank Abigail for me too."

"Yeah, about that…" Marshall's brow furrowed, and Mary knew immediately what was about to come up, hardly daring to believe they'd managed to avoid it until now. "Why didn't you just call me? I'm not complaining, I just thought it was a little…"

His voice trailed, unsure how to go on, but Mary knew what he meant. She just wasn't sure how to vocalize the real reason for her involving Abigail at the onset.

"Well…you guys are a couple…" she eventually decided on. "One's as good as the other, right?"

She didn't feel that way at all and she could tell Marshall didn't buy it, but it was the best she could do. She didn't know why she was shying away from admitting she was working this hard to give him whatever space or consideration he might need. It had seemed so important to him two months before, his plea to be 'free' to have his life with Abigail in whatever capacity it presented itself. She'd been ramped up on her father's death at the time and he'd been such a rock; she couldn't say no.

She was determined to give him whatever he needed in the futile hope that he would not disappear from her life all together. Better some than not at all.

"Well…I guess that's true…" he was kind enough to play along with her reasoning. "Ab will be excited to have a little one to play around with," he worked in. "She really likes Norah."

He might've been making that up, but Mary didn't really care at this point. He was trying too, and she needed to book it.

"I'll give you a call when I can," she wrapped up. Leaning over, she compressed her lips against Norah's head, feeling the softness of skin-on-skin, "Bye Bug. Love you."

Mary turned to continue her jaunt back to the car, but her last two words hung heavy in the air between her and Marshall. She suddenly wondered if she'd ever said that around Marshall, not _to_ him but even simply in his vicinity. She didn't think so, and she had the distinct impression he was thinking the same thing.

Raising her eyes to his, he was watching her go with an odd sense of disorientation and yearning, almost like he expected something with it but knew better than to wish.

As it was, Mary cast him the easiest of goodbyes, "See you later."

"Yeah…" he nodded slowly, convincing himself with each passing shake. "See you."

**A/N: I was sad we didn't get more Marshall/Norah time on the show, although him reading her King Lear in the second episode of the season was priceless. Thanks for reviewing!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm glad so many people liked the Marshall/Norah stuff! I always thought they'd be adorable together!**

XXX

The ride to the hospital was a fairly short and mostly silent one, Mary unsure what to say and Brandi just trying to stay in control in some fashion or another. It was inching toward five thirty by the time Mary pulled into a slot near the maternity entrance at Mesa Regional, grabbing Brandi's bag and a pillow from the backseat. She was so quiet Mary was a little worried, since she usually used stressful opportunities to articulate every sensation she didn't like. But the older sister couldn't fault her and they proceeded inside, directed quickly upstairs so Brandi could be looked at.

Going up in the elevator to the sixth floor was free of speech as well – until they passed marker three and Brandi doubled completely over, one hand on the wall, the other clutching at her lower belly.

"Oh my God…" she moaned, and the tears started gushing so fast Mary was alarmed; it was like Brandi had an internal knob. "Oh my God…" each of the three words was broken with a trembling, terrified sob which Mary did her best to wave aside.

"What?" she prompted, throwing the bag and pillow onto the floor of the elevator. "Is it your back or…?"

"They're contractions," Brandi bit, raising her head briefly and sniffling loudly as she admitted what they'd both been thinking. "I know they are; I tried to tell myself they weren't, but…"

Mary slapped a hand out and stopped the elevator momentarily; stalling them just before they reached the fourth floor so Brandi wouldn't have to contend with the jostling in addition to her other problems. Then she placed a timid hand to Brandi's back and rubbed small circles there, reminded forcefully of when Marshall had done the same for her when she'd practically collapsed on the altar almost a year before.

"Try not to cry…" she whispered, but with no disdain or exasperation. "It'll wear you out; you want to save your energy."

She didn't know why she said that, wasn't sure if it was even true, but it seemed logical. But it appeared Brandi wasn't listening closely enough to take the advice because tears just poured and her head was halfway on the ground she was hanging it so low trying to contend with whatever she felt.

"Breathe…" was Mary's next word of advice, still caressing. "Breathe…"

She didn't intend to press that encouragement, remembering only too well Jinx's constant stream of 'just breathe' when she'd been rushed to the hospital. Like 'just' made it seem simpler. It wasn't that easy when all the wind had been snatched out of you.

Slowly but surely Brandi was able to stand back up, but was no less distraught when she finally emerged.

"Mary, I really didn't think…" she began, but Mary just shook her head to shut her down.

"Squish, if they're contractions you came to the right place," she swore, reaching over to get the elevator moving again, which it did with a lurch. "Thirty-eight weeks is practically full-term anyway; you're way closer than I was; be grateful for that."

"What if it's more than that?" Brandi wondered, Mary picking up the bag and pillow from the floor.

"Why would you think that?" the older sister wondered.

Brandi didn't answer, but Mary knew there were a thousand things convincing her something might be wrong. That was nothing she could dispute at the moment; they'd know more once they got her checked out by a trained professional. That time was fast-approaching as the elevator doors dinged and slid open, paving the way for them to get Brandi set up in a room somewhere.

A kind nurse working what Mary thought was a very early shift got them situated and handed Brandi a gown, giving her the update on her OBGYN and what to expect.

"Brandi, right?" the woman clarified, looking at the clipboard that had been sent from downstairs. "Brandi Shannon?"

"Yes…" she answered, sounding a little cloudy as she slipped down onto the bed, Mary stationed obediently nearby.

"You came on a good night, Brandi," the woman joked; Mary noticed her tag read, 'Diane' and she looked to be somewhere in her early-to-mid-thirties. Her dark brunette hair fell in a long ponytail down her back and she smiled as she went on, "Don't know if people are being extra careful with the holiday this weekend or what," she teased. "But it's been quiet so far."

That explained how they were able to get in so fast, but Brandi had no response and just waited for the nurse to go on, stroking the side of her belly agitatedly. Mary was still just standing there with her arms crossed, preparing for instructions of some sort.

"Your doctor's been called, and she's on her way…" Diane continued swiftly. "She didn't have any deliveries tonight so there shouldn't be much of a hold-up."

"That's good," Mary cut-in, surprising herself with the positivity.

"But, once she gets here she'll check you out," the nurse went on. "I should tell you, even if she thinks you're in labor she may send you home. We like to keep the rooms open in case of emergency and labor tends to follow a pretty natural progression," she was very sedate, not acting like Brandi should know this already, which Mary appreciated. "Barring any complications, we tend to keep you out until your contractions are five minutes apart and last for sixty seconds."

"Okay…" Mary nodded so Brandi wouldn't have to bother herself. "What if you can't time the contractions?"

"Then, you're probably not in labor…" Diane offered a sympathetic smile toward Brandi, but Mary hurried to clarify what she meant.

"She's been having pain in her back," she informed her.

"It's really bad…" Brandi finally spoke up.

The nurse was noncommittal, "I'm sure Doctor Reese will figure you out," she assumed, and Mary didn't entirely relish seeing this physician again, not having the best memories of their last encounter. "In the meantime; put the gown on and try to relax…" she indicated the fabric she'd already handed Brandi. "If you need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks," Mary was careful to say before Diane's eventual exit and shut of the door.

There wasn't much left to do once she was gone except follow the orders, so Brandi went to the bathroom to change, leaving Mary by herself sitting on the edge of the bed. She reflected that she could hardly believe they'd only been at this two hours, give or take, and it felt like eons. At least the sun would be coming up soon, although their tiny suite didn't have a window.

Brandi emerged in due time, dragging her feet a little awkwardly, her bulge somewhat concealed by the billowy fabric of the gown. Mary stood and took her wadded up clothes, although there really wasn't room for them in her bag she'd packed and resolved to just dump the whole lot of it on the floor.

The younger sister had climbed into bed and Mary had seated herself on a rolling stool before it seemed like it might be an appropriate moment to start talking. Mary fiddled with her hands, intertwining them inside one another while she listened to Brandi breathe in low bursts out her mouth. This seemed a coping mechanism in the sense that recalling there was life somewhere within might assist in powering through – more than one life at that.

Still, when Mary looked at her and saw her big blue eyes cast skyward, filling with huge watery tears that she fought to keep inside, she knew she really ought to say something.

"Squish, about that story I was telling you earlier…"

"Which one?" Brandi whispered, seizing the conversation at once, shifting onto her side with a grimace.

"About daddy and the sparkler," Mary explained. "When he gave it to me, he was worried I'd burn myself when he lit it – or that I'd drop it…"

"Uh-huh…" Brandi murmured thickly through a stuffy nose.

"But I told him I wasn't scared…" she recalled. "And I wasn't, not really, because I knew that he would hold on until he thought it was safe to let go."

"Yeah…" Brandi didn't really need to speak for Mary to keep going, but she did it anyway.

"But, I remember I thought it was pertinent to _tell_ him that I wasn't scared," she emphasized with just a little bit of doubt thrown in, like she was mocking her younger self. "Told him I could handle it on my own…"

"Some things don't change," Brandi said in a hushed voice and the elder sister allowed a smile to escape temporarily at the comparison.

"But, when I said that; daddy said he already knew I wasn't afraid…" she pointed out. "That he knew I wasn't afraid of _anything_."

Brandi, for all her attempt to keep up with the conversation, didn't have a good reply for the last part of the tale and Mary didn't need her to give one. It was her that was making the point, however reluctantly, however much she wished not to have this admission out in the open.

"But…Squish…" Mary sighed, leaning an elbow on her knee, resting her chin in her palm. Brandi's face looked oddly lopsided from where she reclined, paying rapt attention. "That _so_ wasn't true," she went on boldly. "I don't know where he got that idea – that nothing freaked me out," she really didn't. "Plenty of things scared me; hell, I was four years old. Fearless flying from those red monkey bars, maybe…" she chuckled. "But in other ways…"

"You used to take me to play on those monkey bars," Brandi interrupted quietly. "You taught me how to climb across – to use your right hand first and then bring your left to meet it."

"Yeah…" Mary nodded with the surprise Brandi had pulled this out. "Talk about being _petrified_," she tried to inject a little more flow into the discussion; some sort of ease. "I could hardly get you back on those things after you fell off that one time."

"When I was three," Brandi supplied. "You would've been, what?" she shut her eyes in her concentration, allowing a sigh out. "Nine?"

"Or close to it," Mary agreed. "But, you made it all the way across and you were scared then."

They were getting near it now – the point of the discussion. Mary worked to get back to the original thought while Brandi blinked at her, perhaps sensing where this might be headed.

"Just like I was scared of those…ludicrous made-up monsters," she turned it around neatly. "That's why daddy gave me Biscuit. So, I really don't know why he thought I was some kind of brave little toaster."

"Maybe he was trying to convince himself," Brandi suggested softly. "So he wouldn't feel so bad about it when he left."

This was most likely the case, Mary thought. If a deadbeat dad could tell himself he was leaving some strong little girl in charge of a household that included a one-year-old and an alcoholic mother, he could also tell himself it was okay to leave her behind. She imagined everyone had their own reasons for rewriting and fabricating some fictitious universe in which they lived just so they could sleep at night.

"Well, whatever it was…" she didn't intend to dwell all day and leaned even further forward, fixing Brandi with an unwavering stare. "The point I'm trying to make here is that _everyone_…even me, we all…"

But the root of it all was going to be missed; Mary's acknowledging for the first time in ages that she feared at all was going to get slashed out of her. Brandi curled up again, face crumpling in pain, hands scrabbling in several different directions. She obviously felt the violent sensation in both her abdomen as well as her back this time and couldn't manage to find one to squash first.

"Oh no…" she groaned, tears about to become full-fledged once more. "Oh no…"

"Brandi, listen…" Mary was a little more prepared this time and stood up, readying herself to be of service. "Breathe, okay? I've got your back; take my hand…"

The 'I've got your back' comment sounded ridiculous to Mary after she said it, like she was flanking Brandi in some shootout. What she'd meant was that she would do her best to try and ease the aching there so Brandi wasn't reaching around at awkward angles.

Fortunately, Brandi's fingers did close in around Mary's long ones, squeezing pretty brutally once they were intertwined. Mary massaged her free hand along her sister's spine, which made things a little easier for her since she didn't have to look at her distraught face.

"Breathe…" she said again, not hearing that happen. "Come on Squish, take a deep breath…"

But the contraction had subsided before Brandi could manage it, and all they were left with was a gulping, shuddering cry with the occasional hiccup penetrating among it all. But, Mary figured it was probably best to lie on this front in hopes that it would lift Brandi's confidence a little.

"Good…" she fibbed, resuming her seat and seeing that her sister's cheeks were streaked, top-to-bottom with trails of tears. "That was good."

Brandi was disbelieving, "Really?"

Mary extended her index finger and wiped away some of the strays away from Brandi's eyes, not wanting her face to flood.

"Sure Squish…"

She forced a smile, reminding herself with every stretch of how much it would mean to Brandi.

"Really."

XXX

**A/N: Mary's going to have to learn as she goes – since there is **_**drama**_** ahead LOL! Thank-you for reviewing; I appreciate it!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The first of the hurdles ahead! ;)**

XXX

It was almost six thirty by the time Doctor Reese showed up, and Mary thought she seemed awfully chipper. This perturbed her, but she hoped it would inspire something in Brandi if the doctor didn't act like the sky was falling.

"Getting an early start today are we Brandi?" she sang as she entered, carrying what was quite possibly the same clipboard the nurse had-had earlier. "Well, I wouldn't expect a pop before sunrise but maybe sunset if you're lucky…"

Brandi smiled weakly as Doctor Reese pulled over an additional stool, meaning the elder Shannon didn't have to get up.

"Hi Mary," the woman added as an afterthought. "How's Norah?"

"She's good," Mary nodded, making a decent attempt at conversation. "I keep thinking she's finally gonna walk on those tree trunks they call legs, but…"

Doctor Reese laughed, "She's about a year, isn't she?" When Mary acknowledged this, she went on, "Well, she should go mobile soon if she's pulling herself up already, and for a preemie that's something else."

Mary couldn't help the pride that surged through her at these words; her daughter had been eight weeks early but was on the fast track to developing right along with the rest of the world's rug-rats. Mary would expect nothing less from her child.

"So…" the good doctor ventured forth, snapping on gloves and ending the discussion after Mary's modest shrug. "What's going on here? You having contractions, Brandi?"

Mary was patient and tried to be indifferent, letting Brandi take care of herself on this one. If she spoke up now, she might speak up later if it mattered and it was important to get into that groove early.

"Well, I…" Brandi shifted herself higher into the pillows, for Doctor Reese was rolling her stool toward the end of the bed. "I think I might be, but they're not…" she paused, obviously thinking someone was going to stop her but when no one did she was forced to keep on. "I mean, they're not like…how you said they'd be…"

"Where do they feel the strongest?" the woman interjected quickly, slipping her palm beneath Brandi's gown and transferring her hand back and forth like some sensor.

"My back…" Brandi replied at once. "But that's why I'm not sure they're the real thing, because my back's been hurting all the time and contractions…" she gulped trying to get a grip. "There's a break in-between…right?" she threw on the end.

"Well, unfortunately…" Doctor Reese pulled her hand back out and set about adjusting the stirrups on the bed so that Brandi's feet would fit inside. "If you're having back labor, the pain would be more constant – hazard of the circumstance, I'm sorry to say," she explained, securing Brandi's left foot now that the right was in place.

"What's back labor?" Brandi asked in a small voice.

Mary was starting to tune this out a little, letting her mind drift, mostly to the fact that Marshall had been right, at least in part. Or, he at least knew such a thing existed. She didn't imagine there was a way for anyone to actually verify Brandi's labor was confined to her back.

However, her ears perked back up at the sound of action about to commence.

"But, there could be any number of things going on here…" Doctor Reese offered. "I'm gonna check you first and then we'll set you up with an ultrasound to see where things stand."

"Okay…" Brandi's voice was smaller still, and Mary thought she knew why this time.

That phrase 'check' was the same one Doctor Reese had used when Mary was her patient, and although she never said check _what_, there was no denying what it meant. It might not always hurt, but when one's threshold for pain was low it was distinctly and urgently uncomfortable on occasion.

Remembering all this, Mary opted to stand just to have something to do and placed her hand on Brandi's shoulder, which was limp beneath her palm. She squeezed lightly in hopes that this would relax her.

"Just take a couple deep breaths for me, Brandi; we'll get this done quick…" Doctor Reese promised.

Brandi was obedient and shut her eyes, and her breathing stayed steady momentarily until there was a hitch and she bit down on her lip, obviously having been brushed in a bad spot.

Mary tried sympathetic, "It's okay…" and also even. "You're good…"

Brandi attempted a nod, more to ward off the sensation than anything else and exhaled slowly while Mary patted the shoulder where her hand rested, praise for getting through. Brandi unexpectedly took that hand in her own when her eyes opened again; holding it close at her side and Mary chose not to object.

"Well Brandi…" Doctor Reese initiated once she was through with the examination and was backing up. "You're only dilated a centimeter, so technically speaking you are in labor – very early labor though," she cautioned. "Typically, I'd send you back home…"

"We got that speech already," Mary interrupted, anxious to get on with the rest since there seemed to be an anomaly here.

"Okay, good…" Doctor Reese was tolerant. "Typically, I'd send you back home," she repeated. "But whatever's going on with your back is concerning me; once we get a picture on the ultrasound we'll be able to tell what's up."

Mary thought maybe Brandi was going to lose her cool at these words, and decided now might be a good time to be her advocate. Another nurse arrived just as she was coming to this conclusion, and she and Doctor Reese prepared the ultrasound machine in the corner, carting it over.

"Why would it concern you?" Mary spoke up while the nurse unwound the wand. "You think something might be wrong?"

"Not wrong, per say…" the doctor shrugged. "But a development of sorts, something that might need an intervention if she were to deliver in the next twenty-four hours…"

"An intervention," Mary repeated, feeling Brandi's shoulder begin to shudder beneath her hand. She squeezed it again, harder this time without looking at her, and drove right on. "Like what? Sticking a raft line up for the kid to pull itself out?"

Doctor Reese managed a smile, "Nothing so medieval, Mary. It's a precaution; just want to make sure our ducks are in a row."

This last phrase earned Mary a significant raise of the eyebrows, as though warning her not to get too snappy or it would just upset Brandi – which it likely would. If Brandi could consider all the possibilities, it was going to become that much more frightening, although Mary couldn't help wanting the details.

But, it appeared Doctor Reese was correct in her suspicions, because the minute she and her nurse turned away to resume hooking in the ultrasound, Brandi appealed straight to her sister.

"Mary…" her voice quavered dangerously, looking up into her face, her own etched in disbelief. "Mary…I don't…"

She couldn't finish, just blundered off, mouthing soundlessly as though the situation were too dire for words.

"Brandi, try to stay calm…" Mary implored. "We don't know anything yet; don't count the chickens before they hatch, all right?"

"They think something's…" her voice lowered to a desperate hiss. "Something's not right…"

"We don't know and neither do they," Mary reminded her, putting her hand in Brandi's lap, but she had to move it quickly to make way for the sonogram. "That's why they're doing this – to find out."

"I can't be in labor already…" Brandi completely ignored her, seemingly not caring that two near-strangers could hear all her theatrics while they prepped for examination. "Thirty-eight weeks isn't…"

"Well, you know those Shannon babies; they like to come early…" Mary fought for some serious humor. "Your little moppet's closer to the cut-off date than Norah was."

"But…" this didn't make Brandi feel better, and her eyes flicked to the wand already navigating across her belly, and then onto the screen in front of them. "But…"

It was too much for her; too much all at once and she was breaking, all of her resolution was just splitting in two. Mary didn't see how these two professionals could just stand there, sedate and rational while her sister turned into a wreck right there on the bed. She wondered if they'd seen worse, a thought she contemplated more thoroughly as she inched closer to Brandi.

"Keep it together…" she whispered, direct but not callous, and she went the extra mile and began to stroke her hair, fingering the strands in hopes that it would soothe her. "Whatever they find, we'll work through it…"

And then, knowing how much Brandi lived by this word, Mary turned her chin to face her, fixing her with a very determined stare.

"Together."

Brandi's response was a dramatic exhale, but she allowed the tears to dry up and soak into her skin. But, it appeared Mary's temporary solution to getting Brandi grounded was going to have to last a lot longer because the looks on the faces of those in charge were highly disconcerting. Mary, as a Marshal, knew the glance. She knew the image you projected when you wanted to avoid giving bad news and she was seeing it now.

Unable to back out at this point, she picked up Brandi's hand once more, hoping she would appreciate that her sister had been the one to forge the bond. She thought they might wait and undo all the equipment before spilling the beans, but it appeared the team wanted a visual aide for whatever they were about to say.

"Brandi, here's the situation…" Doctor Reese began, very businesslike.

Situation. Mary knew that word too.

"Traditionally, when babies descend into the birth canal during labor, they are in what we call the occiput anterior position, meaning their face is down toward the ground and the head is born first…"

All the fancy terms didn't endear Mary to the situation and she kept a tight grip on Brandi's hand.

"But sometimes…"

Mary sensed the important part coming.

"Babies shift, and go into a breech position where they're feet or bottom first…" she pointed to the screen and Mary's heart sank, any hope she'd had left completely vanished. "Which is what's happened with your baby, and why you're having such bad lower back pain. The baby's head is at the base of your back."

Mary squeezed the hand roughly now, desperate to keep Brandi with her and listening.

"Now, the baby's completely viable; the heart rate is good…" she tried to sunny things up. "But, for obvious reasons, delivering a breech baby naturally can be difficult," she continued to school. "Not impossible, however."

"So…" Mary cut in, having stayed silent long enough. "What happens next?"

"Brandi, you're already in labor; however premature…" Doctor Reese was happy to respond. "Even when we're able to turn babies into a more favorable position, they sometimes rotate back."

Mary could not leave that one alone, and was unable to help herself pouncing on a particular word she'd heard in there.

"_Turn_ babies?" she repeated incredulously. "What do you mean 'turn?' How would you do that?"

Doctor Reese was tolerant, but it was clear she wanted Mary to shut up so she could finish explaining. Mary also knew it was highly favorable she would've gotten all these questions answered if she'd just waited, but she'd never been good at that. Some part of her thought if she kept a familiar voice in this Brandi would keep her head. As it was, she hadn't even looked at her little sister yet, resolute in fixating on the doctors.

"Let's back up a bit…" Doctor Reese reverted with Mary's second question. "We tend to C-section mothers with breech babies to reduce the risk of additional problems from the baby descending in the opposite direction – cord compression, fetal distress…"

"Jesus…" Mary breathed, but the doctor blew on.

"But, it doesn't have to be that way," she went back to that. "We can do a procedure called external cephalic version…"

Mary blocked after that, trying to decode each word by itself. External would be outside.

Cephalic? Okay, she could come back to that.

Version? Christ. Where was Marshall when you needed him?

And mother of God – he'd been right _again_. The baby _was_ facing the wrong way, just as he'd said.

"We'd try to turn the baby from the outside by pressing on your abdomen…" Doctor Reese detailed, sounding a little too professional now. "One hand on the head and one the bottom; that way we could try and shift the baby into a head-down position."

Mary was starting to feel sick, and did her best not to show how ill this gruesome picture made her. She still wasn't looking at Brandi and was trying to get her own emotions under control before she did that, but the image of groping all over her sister's rotund stomach was enough to make her bow out right now.

"Brandi, I know it sounds complicated…" the woman confessed. "But, it really doesn't carry a huge risk. The only issue is that it doesn't always work…" she attempted a well-timed grimace to show she was sorry about this. "We may not be able to turn the baby, and even if we did he or she could turn right back by the time you deliver, in which case you would probably need a C-section anyway."

What a crapshoot, Mary couldn't help thinking. How did Brandi's kid get to be such a little gymnast? She again wondered how it could be doing flips in such a tiny space. How long had it been like this, and had it been missed during previous ultrasounds?

Mary was about to ask all this and more, but came up with a better and hopefully more reasonable question instead. She'd forgotten she was clutching Brandi's hand.

"So, do you have a suggestion on this?" she ventured, eyes scanning the doctor and the nurse, probing them the way she did so well. "The best course of action? What would be the safest?"

"I'm inclined to try the version," Doctor Reese abbreviated that convoluted term from before. "If we can get the baby rotated, Brandi, we can let you labor naturally for a little while and see where things stand," she made it clear she was talking to the patient and not Mary, who was the one doing all the quizzing. "That way you won't get exhausted laboring with a baby that's going to be so difficult to deliver, but we don't jump the gun on the C-section."

"Okay…" Mary replied again, nodding to get herself geared up. "Okay…"

"Brandi, what do you think?" the doctor was obviously getting concerned that the pregnant one hadn't said a word.

And Mary was finally brave enough to venture a glance, but as soon as she did it she knew why she'd been avoiding the stare. Brandi looked unashamedly shell-shocked, her gaze blank and her mouth hanging part-way open like someone had frozen her in time. She wasn't even blinking, just mind-boggled and enraptured with the vision on the screen, like if she bored into it long enough she could will it to turn around.

"Brandi," Mary prompted, clapping her hard on the back to get her attention. "How do you feel about this?"

She saw her swallow, so that was something. The fluttering of her eyes came next and she eventually turned away from the snapshot of her baby, which Mary thought was probably a good thing.

"I'm…" her throat was dry, and it was an effort to form the words. "I'm…I guess that's…" she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and then opening them again. "I guess that's fine…"

That was as close to commitment as they were going to get, but Mary was just pleased she'd voiced something; given her consent.

"Good," Doctor Reese nodded her approval. "If nothing else, it'll get that pressure off your back, at least for a little while," she said optimistically. "Sorry Mary; I'm afraid we're gonna have to boot you out for this one. It shouldn't be long, but we need some freedom to move around the bed."

"All right…" Mary knew this wouldn't make Brandi happy and also knew she needed a quick moment to smooth that over. "Can you give us just a second before you start then?"

The good doctor smiled, "Sure." With that, she made for the door, "One way or another Brandi, that baby's on its way."

Both she and the nurse seemed to think this might cheer her up, but Mary knew if they didn't get out – and soon – Brandi was going to blow a gasket. And the minute they were gone and the door was shut, that was exactly what happened. The lid came off, the contents spilled all over the floor; they were oozing blood, losing strength, every piece of tenacity shattered into millions of tiny, irreplaceable shards.

Brandi started bawling and Mary fought her distaste for touch, knowing there was no better source of comfort this time.

"Squish, I know…" she sighed, and she finally yanked her hand free where her fingers had gone slightly numb. "I know. Come here."

Brandi almost fell into Mary's accepting embrace, collapsing against the inside of her chest, the fabric on her shirt. The elder sister made sure her arms were tight around the younger, smoothly running her hand up and down her aching back, exhaling even more dramatically from above Brandi's somewhat thespian and very wet release.

"I really don't know what to say, Squish…" she was forced to come clean on that. "I'm just sorry; I know this is _not_ ideal."

Brandi's reply was a throaty sob, which made Mary graduate to patting her back rather than rubbing it, trying to get her to snap out of it a little.

"But hey, if they get that kid spun around and keep 'em there you might be home free…" she proposed wildly. "Just imagine the possibilities."

"Mary, I can't…" she articulated murkily. "I can't…"

Okay, enough of that. Time to pull out the big guns and do the pep talk.

"Brandi…" Mary had to pull away and crouched, leaning forward and peering into Brandi's tearstained face. "Yes, you can. I know that nothing about this is fun and nothing about it is the way it's supposed to go, but we'll work with it, okay?"

She felt as though she'd said this already.

"Mary, I don't _want_ to do this…" she moaned childishly. "I don't know why I told them it was okay, I just didn't know what else I was supposed to say!"

"You're doing what they think is best," Mary reminded her. "It sounds a little freaky, but I think you need to let them try," she put her own spin on it.

"Why can't you stay with me?" she begged.

This made Mary sad. The way with which Brandi uttered the request made her hurt somewhere very deep down, because she sounded as she had as a little girl. The little girl who always needed Mary to pull her up and reel her in; the one she ran to for scraped knees, bullies on the playground, later advice and then money and then a place to stay. She'd taken care of Brandi her whole life and somehow, some way, she had never once instilled her sister with the ability to believe she could take care of herself.

"You'll be okay on your own," Mary promised, tucking flyaway hairs behind her ear. "I'll step out, I'll call mom, I'll check on Norah, and by the time I get through all that you'll be done."

Brandi just shook her head, overwhelmed past the point of endurance and it was only starting to warm up. They had a long road ahead, no matter which direction they forged.

"I need you to stay strong," Mary had absolutely appealed for this before. "You can do that. You can."

Mary believed that. She told herself over and over she believed that.

Because of she didn't, time had proven there was no way Brandi would either.

XXX

**A/N: Crazy times in the future for the Shannon sisters! What will become of them LOL! Thank-you again for reviewing!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: The road begins!**

XXX

Demoted to the waiting room for roughly a half hour, Mary decided to make the most of her time and went through all the motions she'd told Brandi she would perform. But she couldn't help feeling isolated so far away from her sister, sharing the waiting space with a few other anxious relatives, the birthing rooms through a set of double doors and down a hallway. She didn't have experience with the area; when she'd gone into labor with Norah she'd been taken to the emergency room.

It was just after seven-thirty when Mary settled herself on a hard grey sofa, and so she opted to try Jinx first. But she knew this was an enormous mistake because her mother about had a cow when she heard all the details of what was going on.

"Mary…" she fretted from the other end of the phone. "Why didn't you call me before? When something like this is happening to my baby…"

"Mom, we didn't _know_ what was happening," Mary insisted firmly. "There was no point getting everybody worked up if it turned out to be nothing."

"I have to come down there…" Jinx decided at once, and Mary gave a half-hearted attempt in cutting her off, suspecting it would be to no avail.

"I really don't think that's a good idea…"

"Oh, damn it…" Jinx suddenly cursed through Mary's caution, and Mary thought it was because her oldest daughter had tried to ward her off but it appeared it was for something else. "There's a Fourth of July party going on at the studio today," Mary could hear rustling which meant she was probably looking at the calendar. "I promised the girls I'd come down; I even made them special red-white-and-blue Jell-O."

Tasty, Mary couldn't help thinking. More like revolting.

"Well mom, go to your party…" Mary suggested. "Seriously. I have things covered here; you can't be any help to Brandi if you're just sitting around wringing your hands together."

"No-no, I can't…" Jinx was obviously not a fan of Mary's idea and refuted her proposition at once. "No. What if the baby comes before I can get there afterwards?"

"Mom, get real," Mary tried to sound something of an expert here so Jinx would buy it. "She's a centimeter dilated. _A centimeter_," she repeated. "Come on, Brandi wouldn't want you missing out on the opportunity to teach some band of brats the nutcracker."

Mary couldn't be entirely certain this was true, but one thing was for sure; the more people that appeared, the more it would reinforce the idea that Brandi had delved into some sort of crisis. Mary was bound and determined to keep her calm, and she hadn't done a good job so far. Jinx would not help anything, even as Mary reflected in the back of her mind that her mother actually _had_ been of some assistance during _her_ labor.

Still. This was different.

"Tell you what…" the older daughter continued while Jinx hemmed-and-hawed around Mary calling her students brats. "If they can't get this kid turned, I'll call you back, because then Brandi will be in surgery. Okay?"

There was a pause, but Jinx eventually conceded, "All right." And then, "Honey, is she doing okay? I mean…she must be so frightened; all this uncertainty…"

Mary tried to figure out the best way to lie and not lie all at the same time; just enough to placate Jinx but not enough to have her racing down to the hospital. It was a very fine line to walk, and she proceeded delicately.

"I think the thought of trying to revolve some kid around outside her uterus was a little disconcerting," Mary finally admitted. "But other than that, she's been okay. I mean, her back's had a beating; that was the reason we came in-in the first place."

Mary pondered whether this was enough to satisfy her mother and it appeared she'd done the trick.

"Okay sweetheart…" she turned sugary and doting as she was often known to do. "You keep me updated. If _anything_ changes…"

"I know the drill mom," Mary assured her. "I got it."

"I'll talk to you soon. I love you, honey."

Mary started at the words being said so freely – she did that sometimes these days. Jinx seemed to have taken to throwing the phrase out more often since James had died; like she thought Mary needed some sort of reassurance with one parent gone. But, there was also the fact that she'd watched her daughter profess her love to Norah – just as Marshall had – and thought her prickly eldest child might be warming to the thought.

"…Love you too, mom," Mary eventually managed, and hung up.

Once she was through with Jinx, she made the next logical call, which was Marshall. She couldn't bring herself to make nice with Abigail this time, using her wiles and stealth to go over the other woman's head. She also tried not to let her gaze stray to the clock, because she really didn't want to know if the procedure was taking longer than it was supposed to.

Fortunately, she was able to reach her new chief and gave him the run-down as she'd done with her mother. He certainly had a different reaction, one that seemed more imbedded with admiration than displeasure.

"That sounds intense…" were his words when Mary had finished. "I'd heard of the ECV…" he even knew an abbreviation. "But they usually perform one before the woman goes into labor, that way there's time if the baby flips back the other direction."

"Well…" Mary sighed, suddenly feeling tired from having repeated the same information over. "They said it wasn't supposed to hurt…"

"No," Marshall sounded confident. "I don't think it hurts. Kind of uncomfortable, maybe, but other than that I think it is pretty routine."

"Yeah…" Mary tried to agree with this, but had kind of stopped listening.

"And I'm fairly sure they stop if she ends up being in pain," but Marshall couldn't quit, couldn't squelch his need to dole out as much information as possible. "Kind of a sign to leave well enough alone, you know?"

Mary nodded; she'd begun chewing on her thumbnail as a means to release some of her aggravation. It really was a good thing she had managed to convince Jinx not to come down because the pair of them would've been climbing the walls and making other patrons miserable in the process. She needed to get off this topic of discussion. There was no point beating it to death with Marshall because he already knew the details.

"Yeah…" she attempted a response to whatever he'd said last and then powered on. "How's Norah?"

He seemed a little surprised by the shift in gears but took care to answer, "She's fine," he promised. "I gave her a little something to eat and now we're building a tower…" his voice shifted at the end to the sappy-sweet-baby tone Mary often hated, like he had Norah right in front of him.

"What'd you feed her?" Mary needed the run-down.

He paused only for a moment, "Tomato slices."

"Tomato…!" Mary was flabbergasted. "Marshall, she can't eat that!"

"Why not?" he was almost pouting. "She liked it; and it's really soft. It seemed easy for her to chew up; she keeps gnawing on her fingers…"

"She's cutting more teeth," Mary sighed, not sure why she'd objected to Norah snacking on the fruit-slash-vegetable, maybe because she'd never tried it and was often unwilling to break new ground where her daughter was concerned. "I usually just let her chew on ice or Popsicles if they're really bothering her."

"I will bear that in mind," her friend assured her. "I'm not even sure she tasted the tomato; I think she just liked the way it squished. Go figure," he chuckled.

Mary tried to do the same, but it didn't come out sounding like her regular laugh. It was more like a squeak and she stopped so abruptly she knew Marshall couldn't be buying it. Her mind worked furiously trying to put up the façade she presented so well, but nothing was coming to her and, in any case, Marshall already had her figured out.

"How are you doing?" he asked casually. "You hanging in there?"

"Me?" Mary did her best self-assured-voice. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Well…" Marshall hedged, and the sound of tumbling blocks came through the phone before he continued. "It can be…tough…being on the other side…" he offered. "Watching it all unfold but not being able to do anything. Inaction has never been your strong suit."

"You noticed, huh?" Mary managed to quip. "I'm fine, Marshall, honestly…" for the most part this was true, but she decided to own up a little in hopes that he would back away. "She's just…she's my baby sister…"

There was nothing left to say after that, as Mary hoped it spoke for itself. Fortunately, Marshall understood.

"I know," he breathed sympathetically. "Do you want me to come down there? Abigail can stay with Norah."

What was designed to help made Mary uncharacteristically angry. What was he doing? What on _earth_ was he thinking? He'd said they needed to step back; he'd said that there needed to be a distance and he was going back on his word. Didn't he understand how hard that had been for her to accept? If he kept dangling it in her face like the proverbial carrot she'd never learn. And his wife – wife-to-be – would _never_ want her around.

"Marshall, what are you doing?" she repeated her thoughts, unable to keep the exasperation out. "Is Abigail sitting there listening to you say that?"

The briefest of pauses, "…No. She's still in bed."

"For the record, doofus, I am not that girl," Mary insisted, becoming more fired up with each passing second. "You _know_ I am not that girl – the one that needs the knight in shining armor to come to her rescue every time something goes wrong. I can take care of myself; I've been doing it for a long time."

"Well, but that isn't the point…" Marshall couldn't help himself. "You're my friend, Mary, and I don't want you to think that just because I'm getting married we can't…"

"But, we _can't_," she was going to start yelling, make a spectacle of herself with or without Jinx. "_You_ said we can't. Right now, my one-year-old is the one who needs taking care of; not me."

"And I'm happy to do that, it's just…"

"Just what?" Mary snapped, not liking the direction this was headed at all.

"I just think that I…" he sounded strangely eager to get this across. "I just think I gave you the wrong impression when we talked about…" he didn't quite finish. "Or, I didn't make it clear to Abigail…"

"What needs to be made clear to Abigail is that you're going to be her husband and you are devoted to _her_, not me," Mary had to do this; she had to keep this boundary in place or his fiancée was going to cut them off completely and she couldn't have that happen.

"But she doesn't need me at every second!" Marshall hissed urgently. "If you do…"

"But I _don't_!" Mary shut him up through gritted teeth, hating that he was having this conversation with Norah so close by. "I don't, okay?"

Strictly speaking, this wasn't true. She did need him. She needed him more fiercely and passionately than she ever had when they'd had the freedom to need as much as they wanted. Now that it had been taken from her she wanted it more than ever, but she so achingly feared losing him all together that she refused to step over that line anymore.

She'd always known wearing your heart on your sleeve got you in trouble and the one time in years that she'd succumbed – breaking down after James had died – it had landed her in trouble of the worst kind.

"Please, just…look after Norah," Mary forged on before he could answer. "That's _all_ I need you for right now."

Miraculously, the perfect segue into goodbye was provided when Doctor Reese emerged from beyond the double doors, signaling to Mary that news was about to had. Mary was quick to relay this to Marshall, anxious to get him off the line and button his trap.

"I have to go," she claimed. "Brandi's doctor is here."

"Okay…" Marshall sighed in defeat. "Talk later."

"Bye," she spared him that before killing the call, slipping the cell into her pocket and standing up.

Trying to appear no-nonsense and efficient, Mary strode up to Doctor Reese where she waited in the entrance to the birthing rooms, fully prepared to give Mary the report.

"So…?" the latter began. "What's the verdict? How'd we come out?"

The woman was quick and clean, "We were able to get the baby rotated." Quick and clean wasn't all, however, "But, I really am concerned it could turn in breech again, which of course means Brandi would need a C-section…"

"Right," Mary nodded to show she understood, but was expectant for the rest.

"One centimeter dilation is nothing," she continued, making Mary glad she'd pointed this out to Jinx and had been correct. "Getting Brandi to ten with a first baby could honestly take days, as dramatic as that sounds."

It _did_ sound dramatic, Mary couldn't deny.

"But, I really want to get her progressing so we can try to have her in delivery within the next twenty-four hours in case that baby wants to turn again," she explained further, leaning on the door now as she went through each point. "Brandi consented to being given Pitocin, which is what we use when we want to induce labor. With any luck, it'll speed up her contractions and if we're really in an ideal situation come this evening, she'll be giving birth tonight."

Mary's head was starting to spin a little bit, but at appeared that – at least for now – Brandi was on a fairly ordinary track to having a baby. The kid was facing the right way. She was being thrown into regular contractions and had some sort of timetable. Mary just hated it could all be shot to hell if that little one decided to start doing flips again. She knew Brandi didn't want a C-section; the professionals always made them sound like an emergency, which would not go over well with her sister.

"So…she's good for now?" Mary asked to confirm what she was thinking. "We just…wait and hope she advances enough to have the baby by tonight?"

"More or less," Doctor Reese told her. "I don't think she's thrilled about having her contractions sped up though," a semi-understanding smirk flickered across her features. "She was having a little bit of a rough time coping when I was in there; maybe you'll be able to help."

Mary doubted this, but knew she was going to have to do her best. What did she know about any of this anyway? Having a baby didn't mean she automatically gained some fount of factual knowledge. She preferred to put the whole experience behind her and just focus on the end result.

"Did Brandi mention to you…?" Mary had-had a sudden recollection. "That before she came to the hospital she was…" she cleared her throat, as though she were embarrassed. "She was bleeding…I mean, a little…"

"Some is not a big deal," the doctor shrugged. "I didn't see anything I was worried about when I was in there."

"Okay, enough," Mary held up a hand, not needing that picture along with all the other unfortunate ones invading her brain. "Can I go back and sit with her now?"

Doctor Reese laughed, "Sure," and stood aside so Mary could walk through. "I'm glad she has you here, Mary."

Mary herself was startled by this and stopped in her tracks, just trying to envision herself as someone another was fortunate to have at their side.

"You're a tough girl…" she continued boldly. "Brandi needs a tough girl right now."

XXX

**A/N: Ah, baby's where it's supposed to be! But will it stay there? What else could happen? One never knows LOL! Thank-you so much for reviewing!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I forgot the plot going on with Marshall was in the last chapter LOL! I'm glad some of you liked it! By the way, I don't own IPS.**

XXX

Mary might be a tough girl, but she wasn't a very knowledgeable one when it came to birthing babies. She'd complained her way through most of her labor, and the experience had been so horrifying she'd blocked a lot of it out until Norah had landed and started screaming. Her recollections of the best way to breathe were not coming to mind, and she wanted to phone Marshall and ask him to give her a hint. But she was still frustrated with him for not being able to make up his mind, so she created some fictitious techniques instead.

By nine o'clock Brandi was already stringing herself out and also wasn't dilating, which was unsettling to Mary. Still, she was doing her best to remain upbeat with a little more of a positive spin on her usual sarcasm to keep things light.

"Bet that head off your back feels better," she decided once Brandi tapered from another contraction, continuing to breathe and splay her hands over her belly. "And bet that's a sentence you thought you'd _never_ hear," Mary joked, still in her spot at the side of the bed. "There's a first time for everything."

Brandi didn't smile, "I should've taken a class or something."

"A class on what?" Mary wrinkled her nose. "How to keep your kid from doing somersaults in the womb?" she suggested. "Gotta tell you, I'm not showing up for that one."

"I meant a breathing class," Brandi whispered tiredly. "Lamaze or something."

"Lamaze," Mary guffawed scornfully. "No thanks. Women of the middle ages didn't need some huff-and-puff to get them through."

"Well, from what mom told me _you_ could've used one too," Brandi accused spitefully, obviously hurt that her idea wasn't holding any merit with her sister. "She said you didn't have a clue what you were doing either."

"Give me a break…" Mary wasn't going to be insulted. "She pushed 'em out when they practically knocked you cold, so she's one to talk."

Brandi rolled her eyes and took another deep breath, eyes flicking to the monitors on the right – one that kept track of the baby's heart rate, the other like some kind of seismograph signaling the onset of each contraction. Mary wished she'd quit all the furtive glances, because knowing it was coming didn't seem to help.

"Well, how would you know if it works or not if you never tried?" Brandi wanted to know. "You and your assumptions…"

"I _have_ tried," Mary interrupted without thinking, irked at being blamed. "I mean I did. I went to one class."

She was thinking of the one she'd attended with the pregnant temptress, Grace, who had turned out to be a liar and a con and was willing to leave her baby alone and helpless in an empty hotel room. She hadn't gone to that class for herself, but to appease Marshall; all she'd learned was how to stroke somebody's hair. It was pretty sad she'd actually needed instruction in that area, thanks to her inability to accept affection.

"You did?" Brandi became curious at once, making Mary regret spilling the beans instantly. "Just one? Why didn't you go back?"

"Because it's pointless," Mary responded quickly. "And it didn't matter, anyway. The one I went to happened a week before I had Norah, so I didn't have a chance to attend anymore."

"Oh…" Brandi accepted this response, casting her eyes downward.

Mary suddenly realized that Brandi's hope had ballooned thinking her sister knew some helpful methods and was now disappointed. Mary considered briefly, trying to figure out the best way to proceed, to perhaps alleviate Brandi's stress in another way.

"Brandi, look…" she began, hoping to get this in before they were slammed again. "I'm sorry. I'm a lousy coach. I just don't do the whole 'bring the spirits' up thing. I probably won't ever be good at it."

"Mare, that's not what I meant," her sister said in a little voice. "I was blaming myself, not you."

"Well just…" Mary shrugged. "Don't dwell. What's done is done. You're playing the hand you've been dealt at this point."

Brandi nodded seriously, "You talked to mom, right?"

"Yeah," Mary was glad to be discussing something else, impressed with how speedily Brandi had switched topics. "She's gonna go to some party the studio's having this afternoon and then she'll be down. She's got plenty of time."

"You know, about that whole coach thing…" Brandi's eyes averted to the bedspread, and Mary was a little dissatisfied they'd gone in that direction again but told herself to listen. "Before I came back to town, I actually…"

She let out a nervous, sad little laugh, still not meeting her sister's gaze. She fiddled with the hem on the blanket covering her like this might help get the words out.

"Scott actually said he'd help me…" she confessed, eyes darting upward now. "Personally, I didn't think he'd be up to the challenge but…" she shrugged, but her attempt at nonchalance didn't fool Mary. "I mean, I thought it was nice of him to offer. He was really excited to be an uncle."

Mary opened her mouth to respond, but she was too late before tears started to roll down Brandi's cheeks. She sniffled and muffled the sob with her hand, hiding her face out of shame. The other sighed and put a hand to Brandi's upper arm, the nearest part she could reach, and squeezed it to show she was some measure of sympathetic.

"Squish…" she whispered, debating how best to go on. "Let's not; I mean…" she wasn't trying to be insensitive but really, it was just going to make things worse. "Don't think about that right now. If Scott were here, I'm sure he would be excited. Try to focus on that."

Brandi wagged her head from side-to-side, Mary's fingers still clenched around her arm as she swiped at her eyes in an attempt to clear them.

"I forget that he's gone sometimes…" she wept, seemingly paying no attention to Mary's wisdom. "Dad got all the fuss when he died, but Scott…he wasn't a bad person, Mary, I know that you…"

"Brandi, listen…" the hand crawled into her hair, patting it affectionately, just wanting to put this aside; side-step the landmine. "I thought he was a little freelance, I certainly didn't want him to die, and I am _positive_ he cared about you."

With this, her sister gulped and swallowed some of the tears, although a few more managed to leak out even in the presence of a marginal amount of closure.

"Okay?" Mary wanted to make sure she got it.

Acceptance or not, words were going to have to take a backseat for a moment because Mary recognized the telltale signs that Brandi was about to be hit hard again. Her eyes pinched shut, her breathing became shallow, and her hands roved all over her stomach, like if maybe she worked fast enough she'd be able to stop the pain before it struck.

"Mary…" she whimpered, unsure what saying the name was supposed to do. "Mary…"

"Okay, I know; give me your hand…" without waiting for Brandi to initiate, Mary worked her fingers into the palm herself and pressed in, showing she was there. "It'll just last a minute; a minute's nothing…"

But Mary had been there, and when your existence was punctuated by one horrific sixty seconds after another, sixty seconds was an eternity, especially when you had no lifeline telling you how to get through. She didn't know what else to do though and just tried to be the support Brandi might need, but watching her battle the obvious agony was almost as painful for Mary as the real thing.

"It hurts…" she groaned, folding over her tummy; it was all emotion and wetness; breaths had vanished to make way for the soreness to break through the gate. "It hurts really bad…" she was ascending into a full-fledged wail now.

Mary was beginning to feel a little desperate. She wracked her brains, willing herself to come up with something that would ease all this; that would make things more manageable. She'd done this before. What had helped her? Hadn't something given her hope?

Think. Think. Think.

"Breathe…quick inhale, steady exhale…" was what her mind came up with, and she had no idea where she'd pulled it from. "Listen to me; I need you to listen…" she perched close to Brandi's crumpled face, knowing the pain was about to reach its peak before it siphoned off. "I'll do it with you, but you have to try…"

Something between a pinch and a squeak intermixed from Brandi at that point, but there was a nod mingling amongst Mary's encouragement, which signaled her acknowledgment.

"Watch…"

Slowly, Brandi was able to sit up and Mary felt as though she was watching herself from afar, going through the motions Marshall had gone through when she'd fallen into premature labor with Norah. It was as though somebody else was acting her part, like she stood aside and saw herself inhale and exhale for Brandi's benefit. But, while she viewed it – through some sort of screen like she was in a movie – she actually saw Brandi do it too. There was a bit of a yelp between breaths, but she was zeroing in, focusing, locking in on her sister at the bedside.

And some intuition knew that no matter how ridiculous _she_ might envision sounding, Brandi needed to hear what spilled from her mouth.

"Awesome…that was awesome…" she invented wildly. "Now do it again; do it again…"

"I can't…" Brandi's favorite phrase.

"Yes, you can!" but Mary shouted it with no anger and all belief. "You did great that time; you can do even better this time!"

Brandi's effort was theatrical; it was like she was trying to blow on what might be a very hot bowl of soup; so much so there was almost a breeze going. But she made it through both rounds and once she was done, the fated sixty seconds had passed.

Mary was so thrilled they'd made some sort of stride that she actually laughed, not noticing how white her fingers were until Brandi let go to put a hand to her forehead, to sweep her bangs out of her eyes.

"You did it!" Mary proclaimed, feeling some sort of strange triumph herself. "You were kick-ass, Squish!"

Beautifully, this made Brandi laugh too – watery, shaky, but still able to find joy in it somewhere.

"Yeah?" she whispered.

"Yeah!" Mary reinforced absurdly. "Think you can keep it going?"

"I don't know…" Brandi was ever-uncertain. "Will you keep helping me?"

Mary was on a high and uttered a phrase she was surely going to regret down the road.

"To the bitter end."

XXX

**A/N: Thank-you to everyone who is taking the time to read. I really-really-really-really appreciate it; I sure do!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank-you again for the reviews! Sorry the update is a tad late – got caught up in something else! But, here it is!**

XXX

Mary's success in getting Brandi through a singular contraction was fairly short-lived. Her patient wanted pain medication by ten-thirty, a fact that forced Mary to keep her mouth shut. However, her wish was not entirely granted; as Brandi wasn't dilated to three centimeters yet, she couldn't have the heavy-duty epidural and was placated with something to help her sleep. Brandi wasn't overly pleased, knowing the pain wasn't going away. She also didn't know what she'd find when she awoke, but was tired enough to go along. Mary was grateful, as she was running low on steam as well.

After being told the meds would knock Brandi out for a few hours, Mary attempted to get comfortable in the chair at her bedside with little success. Regardless, it appeared she was drowsy enough it didn't entirely matter because she was able to doze lightly for an hour before her cell woke her just before noon.

Her eyes were bleary and the thing just kept jangling even as she made an effort to get it out of her pocket before it stirred Brandi.

"Hello?" she murmured thickly once she managed.

"Mare, where are you?" it was Mark, semi-hysterical; it was evident he was worried but trying not to freak out. "I'm at the house; you're not here, Brandi's not here; I called your mom but I couldn't…"

"Mark-Mark; chill…" his ex stood up, straightening her top as she made for the door in hopes Brandi would stay under a little longer. Once she was in the hall, she continued, "I'm at the hospital…"

"Is Norah okay?"

"Would you shut up for a second and let me talk!" she snapped irritably, annoyed she'd been roused from her nap, but more annoyed she'd forgotten to phone Mark and tell him what was going on. "Norah is fine. Brandi was feeling like shit last night, so I brought her in around 5:30 this morning; she's in labor, we're just hanging out till things pick up…"

"Oh…" Mark breathed a sigh of relief, and he was really startling Mary with how worked-up he'd gotten about the baby; she didn't know he had it in him. "That makes sense."

"You think?" she quipped less-than-cordially. "Listen, I know I should've told you about Norah. I dropped her off at Marshall's; she's there now."

"Your partner Marshall?" he tried to clarify. "The one who stayed with her when that whole thing with your dad was going down?"

"First, he's not my partner anymore."

Yuck. Mary hoped she wouldn't have to say that much more. She didn't like the way it sounded.

"I mean, he was promoted to chief a couple months ago…" she hurried to explain. "But yes, that's him. You've met him plenty of times."

"I know – you just say 'Marshall' I don't know whether you're talking about the guy or the profession," he was trying to tease, but it was a pretty poor attempt. "Do you want me to go pick her up?"

Not really, Mary couldn't help thinking. She also _really_ didn't want Mark carting her daughter to some festival; she hadn't initially and especially not now. If Brandi managed to get herself untangled come sunrise the next morning, they could have some weird celebratory thing in the hospital for the holiday. Surely Mark could live with that.

"Mark, I'd rather she…"

Oops. That wasn't going to go over well. Mark was her father; she shouldn't act like he was a bad replacement for Marshall.

"I'd rather she just stay put for now," she made a stab at doing an about-face. "Marshall's set, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you went over to spend some time with her."

That sounded ridiculous as well. Where was she coming up with all these insane notions? Mark was going to think she'd lost her marbles.

"You're sure he wouldn't mind?" the man repeated slowly, proving Mary's point.

"Cut me some slack; I'm running on almost zero sleep, here…" she stuck up for herself. "You'd think I'd be better at it after a year with that little monster," she referred to her child.

"You and me both," Mark chuckled. "Well, I'll go see if Marshall needs some help and then maybe I'll come down and see what my favorite Shannon women are up to," he must be talking about the hospital.

Mary liked this thought even less, but predicted Mark wouldn't even be allowed into the room for long so she supposed he could do what he wanted. It was his doing if he just ended up sedentary in the waiting room all day. Even Jinx had managed to hold off, and Mary was astounded.

"How is Brandi anyway?" he finally took care to ask when Mary didn't object to him coming down. "She wigging out?"

Mary rolled her eyes, "She's all right. Why would you think she was 'wigging?'

"Well, I don't know, but I figure she can't be much worse than you were," he guffawed heartily, irritating Mary even further. "I thought you were going to cock that gun of yours and blast everybody in sight."

"Don't think I wouldn't have," Mary informed him snidely. She decided to spare him the details of Brandi's early labor and pressed on, "But Brandi's holding up. She'll be fine."

Something told Mary she was going to be saying this a lot if she had to keep explaining what was going on. Didn't anybody consider how tiresome that got?

Fortunately – or unfortunately depending on your view – Mary saw through the little sliver of glass in the door that Brandi was coming to, meaning she needed to get her butt back inside.

"Hey Mark, I'm gonna have to go…" she told him. "Don't give Marshall a hard time about keeping Norah; he's been wanting to hang out with her."

"And who could blame him?" he declared jovially, proud father shining its way through. "Not gonna be able to keep the men away come kindergarten."

"Like I need to be thinking about that," Mary groused. "Bye."

She barely heard Mark call his own bon voyage before she had pocketed her phone and was slipping back through the door just as Brandi was elbowing up and pinching the bridge of her nose. She blinked several times, ascertaining Mary's reentrance with each flutter of her lids.

"Hey…" Mary ventured back to her seat, hoping she looked somewhat presentable after her own nap although she wasn't sure why she cared. "You sleep okay?"

"I guess…" Brandi yawned, but when she tried to sit up all the way she had to shut her eyes again.

Mary watched her breathe deep, ready to pounce, ready for a new report, when Brandi just slipped back into her covers. Her eyes stayed closed and she put a hand to her forehead, which Mary found most peculiar.

"What's up?" she pressed, wondering if the next onslaught of contractions were on their way.

"Nothing…" Brandi whispered. "I felt dizzy when I tried to get up."

Mary's brow furrowed, "Really? Anything else?"

"I don't know…" Brandi obviously didn't know what she meant by 'anything else' and peered at her sister through slits to reply. "It feels hot in here…" she murmured uncertainly in an attempt to give better symptoms.

Mary was quick, reminding herself forcefully of the night before as she smacked a hand onto Brandi's forehead. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough to put up a poker face when she felt how hot the flesh was. It was like a radiator, like someone had pressed a fire-poker to Brandi's skin; she even turned her palm back-to-front to make sure, but there was no denying something of this magnitude.

"Shit…" she cursed, wondering how much more bad news was ahead.

"What?" Brandi demanded at once, registering Mary's look for what it was.

"You're burning up…" Mary reported swiftly. "Damn it. Sit tight; let me get someone."

Brandi was either too out-of-it or still too sleepy to go completely crazy and just stared at Mary, eyes grown wide, making no move to shift further up inside the pillows and blankets. Mary didn't like the thought of her stuck when she was likely about to start feeling her contractions again, but who knew what this might mean?

Within five minutes, using her best US Marshal voice, the older sister had summoned a nurse from the desk, who had paged Doctor Reese down to Brandi's room. Once back inside, she found that Brandi had indeed been crashed with yet another wave and was struggling to breathe without Mary's assistance. Back to the bed she went while the doctor headed for the monitor on the other side.

"You're doing good…" Mary reassured her, spreading her long fingers across Brandi's upper back. "Keep breathing, just like we talked about…"

Meanwhile, Mary's eye was on the doctor who was fiddling with the IV bag which flowed into Brandi's vein. She paid little attention to the pain she was having to fight through and also took her turn at feeling her forehead, which Brandi was able to ignore in favor of more important matters.

She was panting pretty hard by the time she was through and starting to come unglued again.

"Mary, it's worse…"

"What is?"

"The contractions…" she gasped. "And I don't feel good; I can't breathe when I'm so dizzy…"

"Yeah, what's the story on that?" Mary questioned, allowing her eyes to meet Doctor Reese's while her hand continued to caress Brandi's back almost of its own volition. "Why's she spiking a fever?"

"Brandi, I think you had a reaction to the medication we used to let you sleep…" she sounded fairly certain. "We're gonna get you off the drip and take another look at you real quick…"

"Is the baby okay?" Brandi burst radically, looking as though she might have a stroke with her cheeks flushed and her eyes watering. "What if something happens to the baby because I…"

"Honey, the baby's fine," Doctor Reese assured her kindly, although Mary did not think much of the patronizing term; she only let Jinx get away with it. "The heart rate is still nice and strong, but it's important that we keep _you_ stable so nothing does happen to the baby."

"Squish, try to relax…" Mary suggested, tugging her arm to get her to look away from the doctor. "Come on, talk to me…let them do what they need to do…"

Mary was concerned about how much was ahead – another 'check,' likely blood pressure and possibly another IV. But her rationality had absolutely no effect on Brandi, who had about had enough. She shook Mary off and exploded, hands waving in all directions as she broke completely; ready to have this go the way it was supposed to. Mary saw it like it was the oncoming train – nothing you could do but jump off the tracks and watch it scream past.

"I want to go _home_!" she shouted, tears gushing from her eyes, sounding like she was six years old. "I want to go home; I don't want to be here anymore!"

Mary mouthed something over her, hands fluttering, but it was no use.

"Mary, take me home…" she begged, innocence etched in every line of her sweet face. "Please; I want to go home…"

Quickly, Mary jerked her head at the doctor to get rid of her and she obliged, but it was with obvious reluctance.

"Be quick…" she ordered in an undertone. "She can't stay like this and we need to get a read."

"Fine; just go," Mary jerked her head again, words tight and pinching.

The doctor went on her way while Mary knew she had wasted valuable time letting Brandi work herself into a tizzy just spending seconds on their interaction. Once the woman was gone, she grabbed Brandi by the shoulders and caught her eyes with her most dangerous and serious stare. She wasn't going to yell, but she needed to be stern – maybe even grim.

"Brandi, look at me…" she ordered in a low voice, but even when she didn't listen Mary kept right on going. "This is _fixable_. I know it _sucks_!" she declared almost at the top of her voice. "I know it does but falling to pieces will make everything worse. I need you to stay together."

Her sister's head was flying side to side, and Mary couldn't imagine what sort of symptoms this was giving her fever. She was going to end up going into distress if they didn't hurry.

"Squish, this is new for me too – I don't have any idea what I'm doing but I'm really trying here!" she hadn't meant to put all the exertion on herself but gripped at her sister's forearms again. "If you tell me what you need I will try to do it, but only if you power through like I _know_ you can."

There was much gulping and gasping at this; Mary could feel Brandi battling to come undone from her sister's iron hold, but Mary wouldn't let her. She wasn't a US Marshal for nothing.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "Tell me what you want – tell me what will help you."

She expected the request to come far later, for Brandi to dance around it or even not know but what came cascading out of her mouth almost knocked Mary to the floor.

"Call Peter!"

"_Peter?_" it was Mary who stepped back and fed her the quizzical look, totally flummoxed and disbelieving. "_Peter_-Peter? Brandi, you left the man at the altar you can't have him coming down here to…"

But. There was always a 'but.' In this case, a huge one.

"Mary, he's the father!"

XXX

**A/N: It's Peter! Big surprise, right? LOL!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hope everybody enjoyed/enjoys the reappearance of Peter! I didn't want Brandi having shacked up with some random LOL!**

XXX

Mary was spinning – round and round and round, like the time her father had taken her on the twirling teacups when she was five. She'd almost lost the stick of cotton candy he'd gotten her, nearly spewed that strawberry floss all over the ground. She'd pleaded with him to stop the ride, but she'd punctuated each cry with a strangely vivacious giggle, almost as though she enjoyed the out-of-control aspect on some sick level.

"_Daddy, I'm gonna throw up!" Mary insisted._

"_Naw partner; you're tough…" he grinned adoringly as her face blurred and streaked before his own._

"_I'm sick daddy…!"_

"_You're a big brave girl sweetheart; you can do it."_

It wasn't true then. It wasn't true _now_. She _had_ barfed her guts up at that fair. James had held her hair in his hands while she retched and asked, "But it was fun though, right?" And she'd squealed, "Yes, daddy!" But she'd been lying to him then, just as she'd lied to Brandi now, saying she was fine with phoning Peter.

Her first move was to get Jinx on the scene. It was twelve-thirty in the afternoon, and she had no clue when her mother's supposed frivolity was supposed to take place, but she was about to make good on her word. She'd said she would call if anything changed, and so it had. Mary had no intention of ringing up Peter for the first time in a year with Brandi blubbering at her side. She waited until Jinx busted in fifteen minutes later to stand in as coach, and then retreated to the waiting room.

But even once she was there, she didn't know where to begin. She told herself over and over she was going to shoot Brandi when she came out of this and started acting like a normal person again. But in the back of her mind she knew this was some sort of divine karma flying her way. She hadn't told Mark about the baby until two days before she'd delivered. They were in the same boat now, even if Mary could never say that out loud.

And at least she'd told Mark _herself_.

As primeval as it might be, Mary knew the most logical place to start was the Autoplex. As far as she knew, Peter still owned it although she'd taken to avoiding the area since Brandi had dumped him. Getting this sort of news at work wasn't something she'd appreciate, but there was nothing else to be done.

An extremely young-sounding male answered the main line after only one ring, like he'd just been standing at the desk twiddling his thumbs on a Saturday afternoon.

"Alpert's Autoplex, this is Jeff; how can I be of service today?"

Mary blew right through his corny-ass spiel, "Jeff, I need to talk to your boss," she declared bluntly. "Is Mr. Alpert around? Tell him it's Mary Shannon, and take care to watch him to make sure he doesn't – you know – pass out after he hears that, because he'll want to save it for later."

"Um…" this Jeff was clearly thrown by the shtick, and fumbled for a moment before getting himself straightened out. "Mr. Alpert is in Denver at the moment," he informed his caller. "If it's urgent, I can forward you to his cell, he um…" Mary pictured him checking his watch. "He had a meeting about an hour ago, but he might be free right now…"

"Might as well," Mary grumbled. "But I wouldn't advise letting him know it's me if you think he's driving."

"Uh…" the kid said for what seemed like the tenth time. "Right…"

There was an obnoxious, shrill-sounding beep as he put Mary on hold. She waited, drumming her fingers absently on the knee of her jeans, her mind twisting and turning with how on earth she was going to drop a bomb like this on Peter. Brandi had given minimal details in her horror-stricken panic, but it didn't explain a lot.

"Hello?" came the sound of what should've been her brother-in-law, far before Mary was prepared.

She swallowed once. She swallowed again, harder on the second stroke. If she didn't hurry, Peter was going to hang up and then she'd have to talk to that juvenile again.

"Peter…" she eventually choked out. "It's Mary Shannon."

He took his chance at pausing, but Mary could still hear him breathing through the phone. She hoped he was sitting down. She'd have to make sure to check before she lowered the boom.

"Mary…" he started as she had, also uncertain. "Wow. I'd be surprised you managed to track me at this number, but being a Marshal I guess I'm not."

She hadn't even thought to go that route. With Stan gone, she couldn't call him to pin down everyone on her roster, and she hadn't considered bothering Marshall with it.

"Actually, it was one of your employees – Jeff – that got me through," she admitted, absolving herself of detection skills.

"Ah…" Peter mused. "Well, how are you? It's been awhile."

No kidding. The last time he'd seen her she'd been falling down on the altar where he was supposed to have gotten married. She hoped he'd enjoyed that picture.

"Look Peter, I'm gonna have to skip the small talk here…" she confessed, shifting in the chair to which she was confined, wondering if she should stand instead but she stayed put. "And get to the point."

"…Okay," he managed after a silence.

Mary swallowed a few more times, thinking she wasn't going to have much saliva left when she was done. She did not want to do this. Why was she doing this? Brandi was _so_ going to get it once they were on the other side of this mess.

"There's no good way to say this, so I'm gonna get it all out at once," she decided.

When Peter didn't object, Mary knew it was time to move forward. Waiting wasn't going to make a bit of difference anymore. And besides, this wasn't her problem. But, it was about to become Peter's and whatever obligation he had was one he hadn't even been aware of. Much like her and Mark. Jesus.

All right. She was ready. She was. Now or never.

"I am at the hospital with Brandi. She's thirty-eight weeks pregnant and has been in labor since roughly four-thirty this morning. The baby was backwards and had to be rotated and now she has a fever and is coming completely undone. And she just informed me in a state of total alarm that you are this baby's father."

Mary suspected she'd forgotten to breathe during her little unload, and had to remind herself to do so once she was finished. She kind of hoped Peter didn't hear her panting, because his issues had just become greater than hers. At least he was far enough away to pull himself in one piece before he arrived. If he chose to arrive.

After a few moments, giving the man a second to process, Mary decided a prod was in order.

"Peter?"

It was as though she could _hear_ him gaping on the other end, the tiniest murmuring of his lips opening and closing trying to find words that would never explain the situation he'd just been handed. A situation he'd been handed with absolutely no warning.

"I'm…" he eventually spoke, hushed and almost frightened. "I'm…Brandi's…"every word was broken, only parts sneaking their way in. "Brandi's…she's not all right? She's – things aren't going like they're supposed to?"

Mary really wasn't sure why this was the portion he was focusing on, and she intended to divert him elsewhere.

"She's surviving, Peter, but she's also asking for you," Mary explained.

"But I'm not…" he couldn't wrap his head around it. "I'm…the baby's actually…" he was lost, but found the phrase he was looking for. "Mine?"

"It would seem to be," Mary sighed. "The math's not quite adding up for me and Brandi was pretty short with details when she blurted all this out. I wasn't aware you two saw each other after the wedding last August."

Peter exhaled slowly, causing a blowing noise through the phone, "I had to go to Miami on business last October."

"And you decided to have a last hurrah," Mary put the pieces together herself. "From what I can gather."

"Mary…" now he felt he had to justify himself. "I was not in a good place and neither was she. I wasn't drinking, but I knew all the signs; I was close to hitting that point," he couldn't help saying. "So I dove into something other than the bottle this time to lick my wounds. I'm not proud of it because we agreed not to make anything of it – it was one time. I just never thought…"

No, he hadn't. How could he? When you were miserable and desperate you flew headfirst into the brick wall and seeing the woman you were supposed to have spent the rest of your life with just two months after the fact…

Well, Mary couldn't pretend she hadn't been foolish too. But for Peter's benefit, not Brandi's.

"Peter…" she began again, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. "I'm sorry. I really am. I had no idea you were the father; Brandi didn't tell anybody. She only just came back to New Mexico in May when our father died…"

Whoops. How had she worked that in? So much had happened around that time; it seemed to mingle in her radar more often than she cared to admit.

"Wait, your father died?" Peter latched onto that, something he could wrap his brain around. "James? The fugitive?"

"Yes…" Mary could make this brief, her temples beginning to pound beneath the tips of her fingers. "He was in trouble, he came to see me; the whole thing blew up in his face and he was shot and killed down at the Mexico border."

"Geez…" Peter breathed; seemingly relieved he wasn't the only one with troubles. "Well, I'm sorry. I imagine that was hard for all three of you."

"Yes," Mary repeated, not going to let him get away with this for long. "Listen Peter, I am sure you're treading water with this right now but Brandi's delivery doesn't seem to be shaping up quite right and if there's any way you can be the big man here and show up…" this didn't sound right to her at all and she backtracked a little. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, honestly, but knowing the kind of guy you are, I figure you might not want to miss the birth of your child."

"We'll just…brush aside how disorienting that phase is…" he laughed bitterly. "Since five minutes before you called I was just sitting here trying to lease a new car line."

"I know it's a lot," Mary whispered. "I just…when Brandi asked I figured you should know."

There was a well-timed lapse where neither one of them said anything, but Mary was pretty sure Peter was wavering and just coming up with the best way to voice it.

"I don't know _when_ I'll get there…" he was clearly determined to be calm. "Since I'm in Denver. But…" resigned, he conceded defeat. "I'll be there."

"Okay," Mary wanted to end this. "Thanks."

"Yeah…" Peter finished. "To you too."

He was the first to hang up, Mary not far behind. She didn't especially feel like relieving Jinx at the moment, figuring she'd filled her quota in the labor room for a little while. However, she hadn't spoken to Marshall since early that morning and despite her great talent at being sour and sullen, she wasn't the best at staying angry with him for long.

It appeared that this time though, she wasn't going to get out of speaking to the baby-sitter she'd actually asked to watch her child. She dialed Marshall's cell, but it was Abigail who picked up.

"Hey Mary…" she sang, sounding more awake than she had at four-thirty, southern-bell in full swing. "How're things at the hospital? How's your sister holding up?"

Mary tried to count the number of questions in there, and it seemed like more than two. She hadn't banked on having to be polite with Abigail so soon after Peter, but she didn't want to make things more difficult for Marshall.

"She's doing pretty well…" was her eventual response. "She's had a couple problems, but they're working on getting her secure," that last word was one she typically used with witnesses.

"Marshall told me about the baby being sunny-side-up…" Abigail shared, and Mary was forced to correct her.

"Breech, actually," she tried not to sound too snide, but she was tired. "Feet-down; I think sunny-side up is where…"

"Oh, they face top instead of bottom," Abigail finished the sentence with a good-natured laugh, as though this whole thing was just some sort of adventure. "Right. Who knew the little ones could tumble so much before they even hit the ground running?"

"Well, not me I guess…" Mary was back to rubbing her head again, hoping she didn't have some kind of migraine coming on. "I appreciate you two looking after Norah. She's good?"

"Oh, she's excellent," Abigail swooned, and Mary had her pegged as a baby-talker the minute she said it. "Marshall's having the time of his life playing with her; fortunately he's had a quiet day. The guy's been so juiced up on his new prospects he's barely had time to blink."

"Yeah, I…I know…" Mary fumbled, wondering if she should've said as much. "Does he have a second to talk? I promise not to keep him."

Mary didn't enjoy making promises like that. She was going to get sick of living this way sooner rather than later, wondering at every turn if she'd crossed that invisible line. She also didn't miss Abigail pause with the request, but she ended up agreeing with about as much civility as she could muster.

"Sure…" was her reply. "Let me just get him," Mary couldn't help noticing how the buoyant quality seemed to fall from her tone while the phone was being transferred.

She gnawed on her thumbnail so roughly while she was waiting she suspected she might tear the skin loose. It was a nervous habit she'd never been able to get rid of, but Marshall's voice was jarring in making her stop.

"Hey coach!" his cheerful timbre came through, and Mary knew at once he'd resolved to just forget about what had happened earlier, judging by the stupid nickname he'd just donned her. "How goes the double-play?"

"Marshall, I may be awhile," Mary found herself saying, which was not what she'd planned but she'd already asked Abigail about Norah. "Are you guys okay with keeping the baby?"

"Sure we are," he replied with ease, but his frivolous attitude disappeared. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine…" why she said that, she had no idea. "Just…Brandi's got a fever and…"

She decided it was probably best not to mention Peter at this point. Something told her sharing that kind of information was most definitely stepping outside boundaries on some level. She didn't know what level, exactly, but she withheld for now.

"Okay well, don't worry about it," Marshall stayed gentle and understanding. "Mark's here; if something comes up Ab and I can just do the old switcheroo."

"Don't say switcheroo," Mary requested automatically. "And I hope Mark's not breathing down your neck; I meant to tell you he was stopping by."

"You were otherwise occupied," he assured her. "We're having a good time; Norah's loving all the attention. She napped around 10:30; not too bad considering her night of excitement, right?"

"Right…" Mary agreed. "So, she's up now?"

"She is," he reported. "You want to say something to her?"

"Marshall, I don't talk to anybody over the phone that doesn't talk back," Mary turned snooty with the suggestion, just trying to picture making conversation over her cell like some weepy sap; what a trip.

"Not talking back is no guarantee," Marshall slid swiftly into joyous again. "She's been yakking all day – few of which I understand, I'll grant you. But still."

Mary could tell, even through the speaker, how pleased he was at the prospect of spending so much time with her daughter. Given her current situation, Mary was sorry she was missing it. Normally, she had no desire for large crowds of people, but there was something strangely sweet about the picture of her gathered with the forms of Marshall and Mark, Norah about to start toddling among it all. It was an image that had her thinking of the ways she imagined ordinary people must spend holidays.

She must've gone silent longer than she realized, because she clearly hadn't convinced Marshall with all that 'fine' talk.

"You sure everything's cool?" he asked casually. "Are you with Brandi now?"

"No," she breathed. "Jinx came down so I could have a break," she didn't mention why. "I'm gonna have to go back soon though."

"Okay…" Marshall accepted this time. "Well, don't worry about Norah; we've got her as long as you need."

Her needs were what mattered to Marshall. They always mattered to Marshall. He cared when she didn't want him to, he cared when she knew he shouldn't, he cared when there was someone else on his roster that needed to be cared about more. And she ached for him; she ached to tell him she was tired of being everybody's go-to.

She'd tried everything as far as Brandi was concerned, and nothing worked. When she was the tough-love sister she spiraled out of control; when she toned it down and tried to be supportive Brandi just shocked her with something else she'd managed to undo. And all at the same time, she couldn't stand the thought of losing her. She loved her so much she was willing to put herself through hell just to keep her from slipping someplace she couldn't crawl back from.

"Mary?" Marshall prompted as she thought about all this with her hand over her eyes. "Mary, I…"

A strange mix of sounds came through the phone – something like footsteps and a creak, like the opening and closing of a door. Mary wanted to scream, to tell him to stop because this time she knew Abigail could see him and there was no telling on God's green earth what she might think if he sequestered himself.

"I really can come down there if you need me to," his voice dropped significantly when he said this. "It's no trouble. Ab will understand."

"Well, Marshall I don't need you to – honestly," she'd been through this today already. "I'm perfectly fine. Jinx is here, so I've got some time to regroup."

There was a considerable pause while Mary waited for him to let this go, fear that she was going to lose her grip on him more prevalent than ever when she heard his voice again.

"I think I need to have a talk with Abigail."

Don't! She wanted to wring his ridiculous neck. Marshall would never leave his fiancée in the lurch which meant if he brought this up again _she_ was going to be the one left in the lurch.

"Not on my account," was how she dealt with this proclamation. "You make sure she knows this is all your idea – your completely _insane_ idea – because I don't have time for a catfight today."

"Mary…" he sighed.

He sounded tired. He sounded exhausted, actually, and Mary had the distinct impression this did not have to do with being roused at the crack of dawn and having to watch an eleven-month-old all day. Or even from his heavily increased workload. But, even knowing it was probably neither of those things, she couldn't pin down what the real culprit might be. There were so many options, each more frightening than the next.

"You said you wanted me to be happy," Marshall reminded her. "Right?"

"I do," she reinforced, albeit slightly uncertainly.

"Well, I don't think…"

But, just before Mary's heart was very literally going to fly into her throat, Jinx emerged from across the room. She was beckoning Mary with her finger, indicating for her to come over. She realized with this that Marshall might think she was lying if she cut him off now, but he could think what he wanted.

"I can't stay on," she was also quick. "Do what you want. I don't care."

This was an out-and-out lie, but she'd already hung up before he could say anything else, shoving her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She practically ran to Jinx; she was so anxious to avoid a conversation she had no desire to have.

"Mom, what?" was her less-than-graceful greeting.

"Did you get a hold of Peter, sweetie?" Jinx asked, taking care to step outside the entryway and allowing the doors to shut behind her.

"Mom, he's in Denver," Mary replied shortly, with a detectable amount of bite to her voice. "And you don't just dump this on somebody, although I managed. He said he'd show up when he could."

"Oh…" Jinx breathed; seemingly just glad she'd be able to give Brandi some kind of good news. "Well, I suppose that'll make Brandi happy."

"Mom," Mary stated for the third time, unmistakably serious and steadfast as she continued. "Did you know about this? Did you know that Peter was the father?" her eyes turned steely as they bored into her mother's, the exact same shade of green.

Jinx shook her head sadly, "No, honey. I didn't. Brandi refused to tell me."

Even as much as she didn't want to, as much as she wanted someone to blame for this chaos they'd spiraled into, Mary had to believe it. Jinx was not a very good liar; she was excellent at withholding – traffic tickets, squandered money – but ask her outright and she could never cover. There was no denying she was telling the truth on this one.

It was also evident she could read the less-than-well-disguised anger on her daughter's face, because she didn't wait for a reply.

"Angel…" Jinx's hand floated onto her arm, talking her down. "I know you're probably not very happy with Brandi right now…"

Mary scoffed audibly, but Jinx went right on.

"And I know you've been down this road before – with me _and_ your sister," Jinx wouldn't be saying all this if not to ask for more favors, and this was exactly the case. "But, your support has meant so much to her and she _needs_ you to stay with her right now."

As if Mary would ever do anything else. It was what she always did.

"Please honey…" now she squeezed her arm. "Don't give up on her. Help her through this."

"I already have," Mary couldn't resist pointing out, but not shaking off Jinx's fingers.

"I know," her mother acknowledged. "But, I know you don't want anything to happen to her or the baby…"

"So, wait," Mary did loosen herself then, jerking apart from Jinx and fixing her coldly. "If Brandi keeps going into distress, it's _my_ fault because I pulled rank and sent you in?"

"No, I just…"

"You know what?" Mary didn't want to have this argument; it was too familiar. "Forget it. You and I both know I'm not gonna leave Brandi wide-eyed and scraping for food on the side of the road," as much as she regretted it. "Let's just…get her through today."

That was about all she could handle right now and Jinx seemed to agree. As it was, she nodded and offered something she never used to serve up – gratitude.

"Thank-you, Mary."

It didn't change anything, but it was something. At least it was something.

XXX

**A/N: Woo, what's up with Marshall? Time will tell! (And not much time, I can promise you that!) Thank-you again for reviewing; I just went through for like a half hour and uploaded image covers for all my stories, if you can imagine that. The one for this story might be my favorite though, as it is probably the most fitting.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Words to be exchanged ahead! Woo-hoo LOL!**

XXX

Marshall watched Abigail with Norah, watched her spin some wooden contraption with blocks rotating in the center, and he couldn't help the feeling that his heart was sinking. He thought seeing his fiancée with a baby would only reinforce the idea that this was the woman _he_ was going to have babies with. He'd see her kind and gentle spirit dote upon the innocent, and it would cement everything. It would chase those pre-wedding jitters right out of him, to be replaced by a quiet, healthy-anxious calm.

But, standing in the kitchen he couldn't help feeling that those alarms just weren't going off. Abigail was very good with Norah, no denying. Yet, she wasn't the one he wanted to see mothering while he shared the counterpart role of father. In many ways, he didn't have a clue what he wanted but the more he spoke the more he seemed to figure it out.

And although Marshall had little desire to 'figure it out as he went' he knew a talk was coming, and waiting wasn't going to make it easier. Maybe his thoughts would become clear as he got them out in the open. Surely that was possible.

Grateful that Mark had left after getting a call from a client that one of their solar panels was coming undone, Marshall approached Abigail at her spot on the floor. When she looked up at him, she smiled; reddish-brown waves falling in front of her face. She seemed to have forgotten her apprehension about Mary's needing to talk to her fiancée.

"Hey…" the smile turned a little more obligatory, but she was trying. "How's everything with Mary's sister?"

"A couple hiccups," Marshall stated. "Mary doesn't have an ETA on when she'll be back yet."

"Oh, well no problem," Abigail shrugged. And then, noticing the serious look on Marshall's face, "Everything good with you?"

Marshall wished he knew what he was going to say. It might be easier if he knew what he wanted. Deep down, he supposed he did but he had clung hard and fast to Abigail these last few months, telling himself he was ready for the commitment he'd made. The sad part was, it had almost worked.

"Could we…maybe talk for a second?" he found himself requesting. "I can get Norah set up on the blanket down there…" he gestured below the ledge where the couch and coffee table were stationed. "She'll be all right for a few minutes."

Something told Marshall that this was going to take longer than a few minutes. And, if not, it would certainly feel as much.

Abigail looked concerned and no less uneasy, "Sure…" was all she said.

Marshall was more than happy to oblige with the leeway and stooped to the floor, not giving Abigail a chance to deal with Norah herself. Lifting the little girl up, admiring her pale yellow T-shirt and denim shorts – Mary always dressed her in unisex clothes – he felt a sense of peace wash over him. Norah snuggled right into the curve of his arm, babbling indiscriminately and gesturing at the toy on the floor.

"Come with me gorgeous…" he whispered, kissing her hair just as Mary did. "Come play down here so you don't tip over…"

There was already a blanket spread on the hardwood near the kitchen counter and Marshall took care to bring the toy along before depositing Norah on top of it. When he turned around, Abigail had stood as well and was making her way to sit on the couch, flexing her fingers somewhat nervously. Watching her, Marshall suddenly wished he had Norah in his grip again but knew he couldn't do this – whatever _this_ was – with her sitting on his lap. Mary would hate the idea.

"What did you want to talk about?" Abigail asked as he ventured back, but he also had the feeling she already knew.

Marshall sat at her side on the sofa, running his hands up and down the legs of his jeans and trying to appear calm, or at least level-headed, but imagined he was failing miserably. But a part of him felt like if he didn't do this now, he was going to be where he'd already landed himself all over again. Too much had changed in the last couple months for him to deny it anymore, for him to continue to push himself into something he didn't entirely trust.

"Abigail…" he began, trying his hardest to meet her large amber eyes as to not seem like a coward. "A few months back – before I got promoted – we talked about my…" he paused stupidly to clear his throat. "…About my relationship with Mary."

Her suspicions had been confirmed, but she played it cool.

"Yes," was her only response.

"And…when I told you that I spoke with her…" Marshall was beginning to feel a little light-headed; hardly daring to believe he was doing this. "And that we had come to an understanding, I don't think I was being completely honest with you."

Abigail's brow wrinkled as she heard this, "You didn't talk to her?"

"No, I did," Marshall corrected. "I told her – in not so many words – that we needed to work on some distance, and she was…" he couldn't help the breath of sheer admiration that escaped. "She absolutely understood."

"Okay…" she continued uncertainly, visibly not sure where this was headed. "Then, I'm not sure I get it. You were honest with me."

Marshall swallowed. He shut his eyes and reopened them again, just praying he did not become weepy or grief-stricken, because it wouldn't help things for either one of them.

"I'm not sure I was honest with myself, then."

This spoke to Abigail in fewer words; there were not very many ways that statement could be interpreted and however many there might be; things didn't bode well for her. Marshall convinced himself she might've seen this coming. The blow might not have as much sting as he was anticipating.

"Ab, I'm having a very hard time letting her go like I think you need me to," was the first truth he put on the table, wondering if this would be enough but Abigail didn't latch on right away.

"Marshall, you've been trying…" she insisted nicely. "I can see that you have. And, I don't dislike Mary at all. We're different – sure – and I get that you're close with her. I was just concerned that you would always put her before me, but I can see that you're trying to…"

"I don't want to try," Marshall interrupted so abruptly he surprised himself, not to mention his fiancée.

The words hung in the air between the two of them like they were clouds, a choking and confining gas that wouldn't evaporate no matter how long they sat to let it float away. It just ate away at them, seeping into their skin; something you couldn't shake off or get rid of no matter how you wanted to.

"What?" Abigail was hushed when she finally spoke, and the singular word seemed the only one that was appropriate right now.

Marshall wasn't sure how he was going to continue. In many respects, he was ashamed of himself. He'd lied to himself; he'd led on this perfectly lovely women; he'd been too much of a chicken to come clean years before. This whole situation really was his doing.

"Abigail…" he whispered. "When Mary's father died, the timing was terrible. I should've been there for you when we getting our wedding plans off the ground, but I told myself that Mary needed me."

Abigail was just staring at him, waiting for him to go on, to explain what this was all about. He was getting there. It was just that the next bit was the hardest to admit. But, if he wanted to get this done he was going to have to do it.

"I don't know whether Mary needs me or not," it was this that almost made him choke up, but he made every effort to bury it. "The fact that she called me to go down to the hospital was a fluke. She had never reached out to me that way before and I had to go. I couldn't miss that…" this word was stale when he thought about the way he felt, but it was still the one he used. "That opportunity."

Ferocity was starting to inch its way into Abigail's eyes. She'd had time to process now, and nothing about this was going to be in her favor. She was losing out again.

"An opportunity to do what?" she asked icily.

Marshall didn't have a good answer for that, so he just plowed on with what he'd intended to say.

"Whether she needs me or not is up for grabs," he held his hands up, palms out, and feeling the tears beneath his eyes let everything else go. "But _I_ need _her_."

He had yet to make the biggest confession of all, but something told him this last one spoke for itself. Maybe Abigail would want him to say the words – the words he'd told himself he didn't think or feel anymore. She might want the cold hard facts, or maybe she could continue to kid herself the way he had done for so long. They'd both done a lot of acting as of late, but a marriage couldn't be built on that. Mary or no Mary, Marshall knew that if he was going to move on or get over it, he couldn't do it with another woman waiting in the wings.

"I made a commitment to you, Abigail, and…"

His palms had gone increasingly sweaty now, but she finally cut him off. It was her turn to say her piece.

"Marshall, a commitment is not a commitment if your heart's not in it."

He couldn't fault her on that, and seeing her eyes go shiny among her frustration, Marshall began to feel even worse. He'd put her through this for such a long time – all because he couldn't make up his mind, because he couldn't be man enough to admit what he'd felt. Fear of rejection, fear of losing Mary all together had kept him frozen in time. He'd told himself that being unwilling to sacrifice a woman he'd made a promise to was noble on some level. He'd _wanted_ to try for her – at first. Until he'd realized how gut-wrenching it was.

Reflecting back over her words, he attempted to cover, "I really thought my heart _was_…"

"Marshall, respect me enough to tell me the truth here," the bite to her voice was jarring, even mingling among the tears. "Are you in love with her? Or have you just been sleeping with her?"

Marshall gulped down the hurt he felt listening to that accusation. His sense of 'the right thing' was obviously warped, but he could never do that. Still, he reminded himself many times over before he spoke that Abigail had every right to be angry. He couldn't jump down her throat because he was being blamed.

"We've never…" he shook his head. "We haven't…" he wasn't a fan of her phrasing. "Consummated, no…"

Abigail laughed bitterly and rolled her eyes at his substitution, as though he were making the whole thing sound more chaste than it was. But, they'd never even kissed, not really. Marshall could count on one hand the number of times they'd embraced. Mary didn't touch people. She didn't trust the human race. Letting people in was something her father had killed a long time ago.

"So, am I supposed to feel better that you haven't been having sex because you so carefully side-stepped my other question?" Abigail wanted to know. "Are you in love with her?"

Marshall hadn't admitted that to _Mary_. He really hadn't even admitted it to _himself_. How could he say such a thing to Abigail? _She_ was the one he was supposed to be in love with. But, when the tears trickled from his eyes and his hands began to tremble against his jeans, he knew holding it in wasn't an option anymore. He'd blundered down this path for a reason and he couldn't turn around now.

This, right here, was the beginning and the end. Of everything.

"Yes…" his voice shook on every word, but once he said it-it was like the floodgates had been opened; Abigail didn't need to hear it, but he needed to say it. "When I met you, I thought I'd finally gotten over her – she'd been with _three_ other men – but she lets me in the _tiniest_, _smallest_ inch and I know that I'm not…"

He had to pause to take a breath, noticing Abigail shaking her head as tears rolled down her face, but he couldn't shut up.

"And I thought if I just told her I needed some space, I would realize that I could build a life with you, but I don't want that space; and I thought being promoted would show me that when we're not partners, it doesn't feel the same…"

He had needed to speak it to believe it. Perhaps this was why he'd been able to deny it all these years. Saying the words aloud made it more real than he'd ever imagined it could be.

And yet he finally hit a wall as far as Abigail was concerned, "And sitting here with her daughter…"

"Stop it!"

The scream wrenched the house; it tore his words in two as she stood up, her eyes blazing. She was furious as well as deeply hurt. Marshall didn't know how much Abigail bought when he'd told her he was dedicated to their relationship, but it was plain right now that whatever she'd been sold on had just come crashing down. He deserved what came next.

"You think I need to hear _how_ you came to love her and why?" she shouted hysterically. "What else matters? You want to be with her – you don't want to be with me! Why don't you just say so?"

"Because it isn't that simple…" Marshall said in a quiet voice.

"Why?" Abigail spat, eyes darting from the scene momentarily before she faced him once more, looking down at his diminished form on the couch. "Because you don't actually know if she feels the same way you do?"

The woman was a detective. She was smart enough to have figured this out. Marshall had spun himself all sorts of stories concerning the way he felt about Mary to avoid acting on it, having no earthly idea if the partner he longed for shared his love. The thought of losing her completely was too much to bear; too much of a risk to take.

"Marshall, you need to figure this out," she claimed when he didn't say anything. "And…" he was surprised to see her resume her place on the couch; shocked to see her index finger and thumb close around the fourth on the opposite hand to slip the band away. "You need to figure it out without me."

Marshall just gaped at her, watched her remove the ring in slow motion and force his fingers open to place it in his palm. Some small inkling in the back of his brain told him to stop this, that he couldn't just carry on pining for a woman who might see him only as a friend. But he'd tried that. He'd tried to step away, and it hadn't made a bit of difference. And until he _did_ 'figure it out' he knew that Abigail was right. He couldn't string anyone else along in the process.

"So…that's it?" he whispered thickly; the metal of the ring was cold when he curled his fingers into it. "We're just…"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Abigail asked. "Marshall, I love you. But I don't love _this_. I can't put myself through it anymore, and I don't think you can either. Life's not about settling until something better comes along."

Marshall felt sick at the thought, "I really wasn't trying to do that," he murmured.

Abigail nodded, however reluctantly, and said, "I know."

She was trying to give him a minimal amount of credit. Whether he deserved it or not remained to be seen. Abigail stood once more, looking miserable but also determined. There was really nothing left to hash out now. They were done.

"I think it's best I stay somewhere else tonight," she stated, businesslike and wiping her eyes.

Marshall stood as well, "No. I should go."

Abigail shook her head, somehow able to be logical after all this.

"You have the baby," she whispered. "I can make arrangements to get Oscar next week."

This statement was disorienting to Marshall, because it sounded like Abigail had just claimed their dog for herself, but he didn't have it in him to object. He adored Oscar, but after what he'd put Abigail through he really couldn't deny her that luxury. At least he'd get a few more nights with him until they figured out something else.

"Right," he managed a nod. "Fine."

She looked at him a moment, almost like she was memorizing his face while she bit on her lip and tried to make her feet move toward the door. Marshall wanted to do so many things – tell her he was sorry, kiss her one last time, just hug her goodbye. But, he knew all those things were foolish gestures made in movie-break-ups, as though the two would never meet again. He knew there was more Abigail ahead than what made either of them comfortable; she would have to pack her things, they'd have to make a plan on the house. It was messy, this break-up thing.

"I'm sorry," he did say, unable to halt. "I wish…we meshed."

It was a stupid statement; he didn't know where he'd come up with it. He wasn't even sure if it was true. Abigail shook her head again, still tearstained but more confident.

"We do mesh," were her parting words. "You just mesh better with someone else."

Before Marshall could stop her, she had turned and was stepping off the ledge, walking through the hallway, and opening the front door. It was long after the door had shut that his eyes left the place where she'd been standing. His gaze had been stuck there, trying to will her back to explain – to maybe explain to him, because he was awfully confused.

But, when he looked away and blinked, he saw Norah. She had crawled off her blanket and up onto the lip, just where he hadn't wanted her to be. She had also pulled herself to a standing position, hanging onto the coffee table with both hands and staring at him with her huge dark eyes. She didn't speak, didn't move, didn't attempt to walk toward him. She just looked, fat little fingers curled and holding on for dear life.

That face, in her soft yellow T-shirt and cargo shorts, chubby cheeks and all, was the one that broke him. Dropping to his knees, he took the little girl around her tummy and pulled her into his lap, pressing his lips to her cheek. It was the most miniscule, but sweetest part of Mary he could possibly have.

"Stay with me, beautiful…" he whispered, eying her vacated space where she could've toppled down and fallen.

It was all he had to pretend he was talking about the height with his final murmur.

"I don't want you to get hurt."

XXX

**A/N: I hope my explanation of Marshall's feelings are sufficient. What I was attempting to convey was that he considered his chances with Mary shot, and wanted to move on, but found he could not. But, because he's Marshall and he's very committed and loyal, he felt he owed it to himself and Abigail to try to go all-in. But, as I say, he couldn't deny it any longer! He tried after crisis number one (James dying) to obligate himself to Abigail, but crises number two has convinced him his heart is elsewhere.**

**Anyway! Hope you enjoyed! XOXO**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm glad a few of you liked the last chapter! I hope the whole thing with Brandi isn't going too slowly – I'm trying to make it realistic because birth can indeed take a loooooooooong time LOL! I'm hoping all the chaos reining around has kept things alive.**

XXX

It wasn't until around five-thirty that Mary started to believe she wasn't living in some strange otherworld anymore. Having been at the 'labor game' for over twelve hours, it finally started to seem real; that this wasn't just some outlandish nightmare.

She and Jinx ended up congregating in Brandi's room, and although Mary wondered why her sister needed her if she had their mother, she didn't object. Things were hellishly slow, despite the fact that Doctor Reese appeared about every hour to tell them Brandi was still progressing. She'd just elapsed four centimeters as they crawled toward six o'clock and her pesky, persistent fever just kept hanging on. They were continually assured it was low enough not to be a concern, but Mary wondered. The baby having been backwards seemed like a distant memory, but one Mary could not entirely forget.

"Honey…" Jinx fingered her youngest daughter's hair after she made it through another contraction. "I'm gonna step out for just a second; you'll be all right with Mary?"

Brandi nodded with her eyes closed, practically swallowed by the pillows and blankets; her face in a dripping sweat.

"Yeah…" she said hoarsely. "I'll be fine."

Jinx went on her merry way as soon as she was allowed, leaving the two sisters alone again. Mary had spent the last hour or two dabbing Brandi's forehead with a cold washcloth, so determined were the nurses to get her fever to taper. It was making her look very shiny, but also gave her the appearance of some bedraggled individual; strung-out and exhausted.

All things considered though, some of the drama had faded. Brandi wasn't crying so much anymore, although Mary worried for when she started advancing for _real_ and the contractions picked up with their intensity.

"Why's this taking so long?" Brandi voiced from below her. "Seriously – you had Norah out in like, two hours."

"It wasn't that fast," Mary corrected her, picking up the washcloth and folding it in two the other direction to soak in more of the water. "But I don't know. At least you're not stalled. And if it weren't for all these abnormalities you keep coming up with, you'd still be at home."

"Oh, abnormalities," Brandi attempted to snark, but it was hard to see with her eyes shut. Mary continued to mop up her cheeks, reminded forcefully of wiping Marshall's face with her shirt when he'd been shot. "That's a nice way to put it."

"You got a better one?" Mary had done her best to be even since Peter, not too much unlike her usual self. "I'd like to hear it."

"Bump in the road…" Brandi supplied. "Or, bumps, I guess."

"More than one…" Mary couldn't resist teasing, shocking herself when she reached out and thumped her fingers onto the side of Brandi's belly.

Her sister slid her eyes open at the touch, and although Mary meant to pull away as fast as possible, she felt her fingers relaxing there almost against her will. Not just the tips now, but her whole hand – palm and all. Instinctively, she caressed just once before slowly stepping back, trying to give Brandi a nonchalant smile as she did so.

"This kid will come when it's ready," Mary told her, seeing her eyes were still fixated above. "It's not like _you_ never took your sweet time – at least fifteen minutes late for anything important. This one must take after its mother."

"Mary…" Brandi murmured, and the questioned felt her hand slip, to stop the repetitious movements of the washcloth she'd been living on for the past two hours. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

"What?" she was lost. "On what?"

Brandi breathed deeply, talking not as easy as it had been the day before, readying herself for another sentence.

"You didn't think I was gonna keep the baby," the younger revealed in a voice that was half-ashamed. "When I first showed up."

No, Mary hadn't. Or else, she hadn't thought Brandi _should_ keep the baby. She was too worried about what might become of that little being, if it was going to have the same future its mother had mapped out along the way. There was no predicting; no crystal ball, but Mary never forgot indiscretions. They lurked, always, ready to wash to the forefront, just begging to remind her what might happen.

Regardless of how she felt, however, Mary knew she couldn't say any of that so she landed on a different truth instead.

"Well Squish, I didn't think I was gonna keep my baby either," she shrugged. "And look how that turned out."

"Maybe, but…" Brandi hedged, and Mary used the opportunity to toss the fabric for a moment and sit on the stool she hadn't had a chance to occupy in awhile. "Mare, you _know_ how to take care of people. You always have."

Mary was about to say 'not always' but that wasn't entirely true. She'd come to terms with it very young, that was for sure.

"Just because you don't know how right now doesn't mean you can't learn," she offered. "I imagine you'll have Peter to help somewhere down the road."

The lingering shame Mary thought she'd seen before pushed its way through in full. Brandi averted her eyes; they darted back and forth, they yearned for something to take this day and box it up until she were rested enough to deal with it.

"I should've told him…" she confessed quietly. "Not telling him was just…"

"Well, I didn't tell Mark either," Mary grumbled so hesitantly she'd be surprised if Brandi understood. "Guess we have something in common after all."

Brandi appeared to chase what Mary had just said, shifting a little more onto one side while her sister felt her forehead again in the absence of the washcloth. It was still warm, and now it was laced with streaks of moisture along with everything else.

"Why _didn't_ you tell Mark?" Brandi asked as Mary did this. "For real. I know you said it was because you thought he wouldn't step up, but…"

"I don't know," but she did, and she found her hand was staying near the skin now; just resting where Brandi's hair tucked behind her ear. "A lot of reasons. Probably because I wanted to figure out where to put the kid in my own way, and didn't want somebody else screwing that up."

Brandi nodded, this explanation sufficient and sounding more like Mary. She hadn't totally believed her sister's claims that Mark was a deadbeat, that she had no faith in him. But Mary was used to calling the shots and having to share or coincide wasn't something she came to terms with very easily.

Through with her own admission, Mary decided it was up to Brandi to give her own while she was between things here for a moment.

"Something tells me that you not telling Peter was not because you wanted to do it all yourself," the older sister said smartly. "You've never said no to a little give-and-take. Mostly take," she smirked to show she was kidding, in part.

"Mary…" Brandi started to open up, but although another contraction hadn't forced its way in yet, she still had to stop, inhaling and exhaling out her nose to gather a little more stamina.

Her coach was patient, "Easy…" she cautioned. "Hang on…"

Whatever Brandi had felt tapered in due time and she was able to finish what she was saying.

"Mary, I thought he'd be mad at me," she whispered. "I ruined his life once. What now?"

"Squish, it takes two," Mary couldn't resist pointing out. "He gets as much blame – or credit – as you do as far as this kid is concerned. I don't see Peter being the type to bail just because things didn't work out between the two of you."

Brandi knew this was a fact, knew it to be so because Peter had never bailed on _her_, even when she'd more than deserved it. She'd been the one to bow out, fear that he was going to do the same down the line just too strong. That, and just unable to believe she fit into his world, into anybody's world but the one in which she'd been born. Once a screw-up, always a screw-up.

"I wanted it to work out…" Brandi wasn't done with professions. "I just thought he…"

But at that moment, a most peculiar sound emitted from beneath the bedcovers – like a pop – and Brandi gasped softly, jumping up from her reclining position with more speed than Mary thought she might've possessed. Her legs were twitching underneath the sheets, like she was trying to get away from something.

"What is it?" Mary asked at once, resuming her standing position. "What happened?"

"I think it's…" Brandi was still shimmying up to the head of the bed, but didn't finish her thought before starting another. "Something's wet; I'm all wet…"

Curiosity getting the better of her, but a little apprehensive about what she might see, Mary pulled the blankets away from Brandi's middle and saw that she was right. The inside of the sheets were soaked through like someone had just dumped a bucket of water in there.

"Ugh…" Mary couldn't help herself, wrinkling her nose and disguising the mess almost as quickly as she'd glanced. "Gross; what'd you do? Combust?"

And yet, Mary was pretty sure she knew what it was. Brandi had to have known too, but neither one of them wanted to say it. Fortunately, the perfect opportunity to announce the development came prancing through the door at that very moment.

"How are things going, my dears?" Jinx asked, even though she'd only been gone five minutes.

"Good…" Mary responded vaguely, and then cut to the chase as Jinx made her way back to the opposite side of Brandi's bed. "Hey mom – Brandi just leaked. What's that about?"

"What would we do without all your technical terms, sweetheart?" her mother joked with a smile, but she did her own examination of Mary's pronouncement and had exactly the reaction the eldest was hoping for. "Honey!" she exclaimed, like she'd just discovered France beneath the blanket. "Your water broke!"

Knew it, Mary thought. At least she knew something.

"Well…what happens now?" Brandi asked nervously, thinking this surely must signal something.

"Things are definitely gonna pick up, angel," Jinx assured her confidently. "The light's at the end of the tunnel."

Mary sincerely hoped she was right.

XXX

**A/N: A little bit of a filler chapter, I concede, but things are indeed going to 'pick up' one way or another in the next chapter!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thank-you for the reviews!**

XXX

Mary saw very quickly that 'pick up' was an understatement. By eleven o'clock that night, Brandi had progressed to almost seven centimeters, and although three centimeters in five hours wouldn't seem like a lot, considering the snail's pace at which they'd been working it was lightning speed. Mary also reminded herself that Doctor Reese had wanted Brandi to deliver within twenty-four hours, and they weren't at that point yet.

Still though, she couldn't deny the severity of the circumstances started to take their toll as the evening wore on. Brandi was understandably getting worn out and also increasingly uncomfortable; she didn't want to sit still anymore and Jinx and Mary were doing their best to get her situated however possible.

Against her will, Mary was starting to feel inspired by her Brandi's strength in holding up. She was on her side, facing the elder sister while Jinx rubbed her back on the other. This was probably a good time to spew out some encouragement, because her little sister was definitely wearing thin.

"Squish…" Mary spoke unintentionally quickly due to the rushing some of the nurses were doing with Brandi's IV. She picked up the abandoned washcloth from the end table and dabbed at her cheeks another time. "Squish, you're doing great, all right?" she didn't have to be schmaltzy to offer praise. "Hang in there; try to hang in there, okay?

Brandi seemed to _want_ to hold herself in one piece, but she shook her head at her sister's suggestion. Every shake was accompanied by a breathy gasp of air, like it was all she could do to keep sucking on wind. They'd all begun to long for the days when the contractions were spaced out, regardless of the slow advancement.

But the words that came from her pregnant sister were not ones Mary wanted to hear – in fact; they were the very _last_ thing she wanted to hear.

"Mary…" she could hardly talk; all of her supply was gone. "My back hurts."

Jesus God. No way. Not now. How could it possibly be? Was their luck really that unfortunate?

Jinx heard as well, while Mary did her damndest not to let her horror show on her face.

"I'm not hurting you, am I sweetheart?" their mother was dim as usual, leaning over Brandi's shoulder to address her daughter directly. "I can stop if you're sore."

But Mary had no intention of wasting time. Beating around the bush was the worst thing they could do at this point, and Brandi was at least smart enough to sense it as well. She'd spoken up, something she hadn't done since her fever had spiked eons ago.

"Is it like before?" Mary hissed urgently to get to the bottom of this, boring into Brandi's watery blue eyes. "Is is like before?" she repeated, louder this time.

Brandi could only nod, and Mary thought they at least had enough luck left on their side that Doctor Reese was actually in the room. She'd just returned, as it was close to the top of the hour, to check Brandi for what seemed the millionth time. Mary stood from where she was crouched and spoke to the room at large, no better course of action right now.

"Okay, problem…" Mary was nothing if not blunt. "Somebody needs to figure out if this kid flipped around again."

Doctor Reese definitely took notice at these words, projected among all the hustle and bustle. Even Jinx straightened, leaving one hand rumpling in Brandi's sweaty hair. Mary just stared at them all while Brandi continued breathing below, waiting for somebody to get with the program and do as she was asking – as she was ordering.

"Why would you think…?" the doctor began, but Brandi had apparently had enough of being quiet.

"My back's hurting…" she'd started to cry again, and there was no mistaking why; none of them wanted to believe it, but it was becoming more obvious with every moment that passed.

"Brandi, back pain this late in labor is not uncommon at all…" Doctor Reese tried to talk her down. "We've been trying to avoid hooking you up to ultrasounds every hour; the stress it creates with all the movement would've just made things more difficult."

So, that's how they'd missed it? Laziness? Or consideration? Mary couldn't decide which, but neither prospect was very appealing.

"Look, she's telling you there's a problem!" Mary spoke emphatically without really yelling. "She's the one who's feeling everything; figure it out before she ends up pushing out some kid the wrong direction!"

The entire team seemed a little abashed by Mary's brazenness, although Doctor Reese the least so, as she knew her the best. Mary also knew it was entirely possible they were just trying to soften the blow for Brandi before the fact, to give her one last ray of hope it could be something else. Jinx, one who was never so forceful unless she had a drink in her hand, looked completely flabbergasted.

"You two help her sit up…" Doctor Reese eventually managed, turning businesslike once again. "We'll take a look."

Mary did not bother with gratitude and instead had to coax Brandi to come out of the first semi-comfortable position she'd managed in the last hour. It was no easy task, but with Jinx's help they were able to handle it. It was plain, however, even with the help of the partially-reclined bed she could barely hold herself up anymore and she slumped sideways. Mary grabbed her hand without even thinking, feeling as nervous as if it were her going through every twist and writhe.

Unfortunately, Brandi was slammed with another contraction in the middle of the ultrasound setup; the doctor and nurses worked right through it, but Mary thought her sister was ready to throw up. She looked seriously ill and more fatigued than Mary had ever seen her. She forgot to breathe and just fell awkwardly into Mary's chest with a loud and agonizing moan.

"I know, Squish, I know…" Mary did her best not to look at Jinx's distraught face across the bed and squeezed Brandi's shoulder. "Breathe it out; it's not gonna last forever…"

Mary's mantra had been some version of that statement all day, and it did seem to be of some help; the idea that one was only one – one at a time was how they had to take it. One now was one less for later, and the like.

When Brandi emerged relatively pain-free, or as much as she was ever going to be, Mary still thought she was looking extremely under-par. She told herself there was nothing unusual about that, given the circumstances, but she was off regardless. Her cheeks were spotty and her eyes were starting to look glassed-over.

"You all right?" was how Mary voiced this, trying to make it sound like she was talking about their last wave. Without waiting for an answer, she gripped her shoulder again, "You're gonna make it."

One way or another.

The sound of a rapidly beating heart had suddenly filled the room, meaning the ultrasound had commenced during their momentary distraction. Brandi's eyes flicked in the direction of the noise, swallowing and gulping fast. Mary couldn't take her hand off her shoulder, wondering if there was any earthly possibility their worst suspicions had not been confirmed. But the heat rose in her face watching this team of professionals go blank and unashamedly somber. No matter how many times they waved that wand, the image was telling them the same thing.

Mary's first thought the second before they spilled the beans was one she hated herself for – for the first time in ages.

Failure.

"Brandi, I'm sorry," Doctor Reese finally said. And then, without anymore preamble, "The baby's rotated back into a breech position. We're gonna have to prep you for a cesarean."

Mary shouted, "_What_?" at the exact same moment Brandi sobbed, "No…!"

So many people spoke at once nothing was clear initially, but it was Mary's voice that penetrated among it all. She was perhaps unjustifiably pissed. She couldn't believe they'd put Brandi – put _all_ of them – through this for so long just to give up at the end.

"Wait, can't you just turn it around again?" a last-ditch hope. "Like you did before; why can't you do that?"

Brandi was a mess; she was bawling in Jinx's arms, but the nurses were already preparing. They weren't even listening as they fiddled with the IV bags and the sidings on the bed. Doctor Reese was the one who stood there in an attempt to answer the question.

"Mary, we can't," she was as direct as possible. "The muscles of the uterus need to be relaxed for us to do that without risking harm to the baby, and with Brandi contracting every couple of minutes they're very tight. It can't be helped at this point; I'm sorry."

"_Why_ didn't you look for this earlier?" she was in a full-scale rant now, wanting answers and wanting them now. "You _knew_ this was a possibility; how could you let it slide just because – what? – you didn't want to hook up your machine another time?"

"Mary, I understand that this is…"

"Did _any_ of you think about what you were putting her through?" status suddenly hysterical. "How much grief you could've saved her – saved all of us! You want to quit when she's this close?"

"Right now, the only thing we can do…"

"The only thing you're gonna do is slice her open when you could've got that out of the way this morning!"

"Mary, stop it…" Jinx finally got her piece in, pulling her head out from comforting Brandi to issue a word of warning to her other daughter, but Mary could scarcely hear her.

"Well, if administering an ultrasound was too much trouble, let's hope sharpening your knife isn't in the same category," she blew through with her trademark sarcasm.

But Jinx had-had her fill, "Mary, stop it!" she repeated with as much venom as Jinx possessed, fixing her oldest with a cold and unyielding stare. "That's enough!"

Mary had known long before she needed to shut up, but it was Jinx's scolding that finally made her do it. She bit her tongue, crossing her arms and looking sinister as she zeroed in on Doctor Reese, who appeared both baffled and embarrassed all at once. Deep down, Mary knew they hadn't meant for this to happen but having to sit through almost twenty hours of labor when that kid might've whirled around ages ago was a lot to swallow.

But, she had the strong suspicion Jinx had wanted her to be quiet because it would only upset Brandi further. However, it was apparent Brandi was lost in her own kind of misery. Jinx turned back to the younger, sheltering and rocking her in her arms once more.

"Brandi honey…" she crooned sweetly. "Honey, it's all right," was her foolish promise, but Brandi could get a grip no longer. "You did so well, and the baby will be here soon; you won't be in so much pain now…"

This was as close to a bald-faced lie as you could get, because according to Marshall – Mary suddenly remembered – recovering from a C-section was no picnic. They stitched you closed in all sorts of gruesome places, something she couldn't imagine Brandi would relish down the road.

But her sister's anguish came from an entirely different medium, "I worked so hard…"

The hardest she'd probably ever worked in her life, Mary couldn't help thinking.

"Angel, of course you did…" Jinx reinforced, trying to wipe the tear tracks away from her eyelids. "Of course you did; nothing changes that."

Jinx flashed her a look as if to say she wanted Mary to agree, but she didn't trust herself to open her mouth right now or she'd just end up ejecting malice all over again.

"Brandi, we're gonna want to roll you into the OR within the half hour," Doctor Reese suddenly tuned back into the conversation now that Mary had stopped yelling. "The nurses here will get you ready and then we'll be set."

Jinx looked up again, "Will we be able to go with her?" she indicated Mary.

Doctor Reese shook her head, "Just one of you, I'm afraid. It's policy."

Well, one was better than none and Mary knew they were going to have to exit in favor of the supposed 'prep' as well, so they didn't have much time left before Brandi was on that table. However, with her final instruction Doctor Reese made to leave the room; the other women suddenly in charge. Brandi was still a complete wreck and Jinx was breathing deeply, trying to wrap her head around the scenario they'd just been presented.

But, her baby sister came out of it just enough to turn her swimmy blue eyes to Mary's green ones. She looked desperate, more desperate than she had all day. As unfair as it all was part of Mary was thrilled this whole thing would soon be over.

She felt Brandi reach for her hand.

"Mare, will you be there?"

Swallowing, the brave big sister – the one who wasn't afraid of anything – found herself nodding instantly. What else could she say? What else was there?

"Sure, Squish," she squeezed hard. "Sure. Absolutely."

With this as her final word, she and Jinx were almost immediately shooed away by the nurses, Mary wondering in the rear of her mind if her mother was insulted by Brandi's request. But even Jinx seemed to know there were more important matters here and once they were in the hall, safely shielded from Brandi's ears, she blasted off like a rocket.

"Mary, we _cannot_ make her feel worse about this…" they were walking now.

"Mom, come on. I'm not going to do that."

"She feels terrible; she feels like she has to give up after all that…"

"Mom, I could see her!" Mary tried to stop walking to get her mother's attention but she just sashayed right on toward the waiting room. "I could tell she felt terrible! So did I! I know you didn't miss that!"

She'd had no intention to bring that up, but it had happened without her thinking about it.

"Little of that goes a long way," Jinx was disproportionately snide about Mary's remarks and threw her a disdainful look as they continued.

"Mom, I'll give you the full report when she's out," the daughter waved aside her mother's second scolding as they reached the second set of double doors that led to the waiting room. "I know you don't trust anyone else for a second with your precious baby."

She sounded weirdly jealous, which wasn't the emotion she'd meant to project but she didn't need Jinx on her back along with everything else. But it was clear Jinx was full-steam ahead and just ignored the josh, sighing once they were in the confines of the waiting room and finally halting her march.

"I wish Peter had made it," she voiced sadly.

"Well, it'll be a hell of a story for him down the line," Mary decided. And then, having had enough of that, "Mom, I need to call Marshall and check on Norah. I don't have a lot of time before Brandi's gonna want me back in there," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

Jinx nodded, seemingly with nothing else to say, and ventured over to the couches to sit among some other nervous beings. Mary migrated away from the doors to ensure she would not be hit if somebody were to walk out and dialed Marshall's cell. She'd put their last conversation completely from her mind; no room for it among everything else.

"Hey…" he sounded sleepy or else a little dejected; she couldn't tell which. "Anything new?" he was whispering, probably so he wouldn't wake her daughter, but there was still something odd about the quality to his voice.

She didn't have the energy to decode, "Marshall, I'm sorry you've been stuck with the baby all day; I'm sure you have a thousand other things you needed to do…"

"I was not _stuck_ with her," he cut in at once, resolute even playing the blues. "She's a great kid; I love her. Quit worrying about that – what's going on?"

Mary didn't even register the fact that he'd just professed his love for her child and decided to respond to his inquiry.

"Brandi's gonna have to have a C-section," she revealed with a very big sigh. "The baby turned around again; we're not sure when, but they're sending her in for surgery in about a half hour."

Marshall sighed too, and when he spoke he sounded so disheartened on her behalf she wanted to run straight to him. She wanted to be with him, outside of this dreadful pit she'd sunken into. He was _her_ light at the end of the tunnel.

"Oh man…" was his eventual response. "That's rough. After she went through all that."

"Yeah, that seems to be the consensus," Mary agreed. "But, barring anything else from the bad-news-train, I should be able to get out of here after she's out of the OR. Say by two?"

"Take your time," Marshall assured her. "You put yourself on a schedule you'll just get aggravated when you can't hold yourself to it."

His intelligence, the way he knew her; it never ceased to amaze.

"Well, anyway," Mary shrugged with a sort of finality, not sure what else she was supposed to tell him until she remembered the real reason she'd supposedly called. "How's Norah?" a sadness crept in with the question; she wanted to see her daughter too.

"She's asleep," he reported. "Has been for the past two hours. Girl's like a rock when she finally goes under."

"Yeah," Mary couldn't keep a tiny chuckle out. "Lucky me."

How ironic such a phrase had forced its way out tonight.

"I'm gonna snooze for a little while too," Marshall said. "Or try, anyway. Just let me know when you're on your way or if something else comes up."

"Yeah, I will…" Mary promised. "Thanks."

She knew it was time to hang up after that, but she couldn't make herself do it. She still had twenty minutes before Brandi was hitting surgery and she wanted to stretch as much Marshall out of that time as possible. But he needed his sleep, especially if there was something bothering him. It was probably her – all this drama she inflicted on his life. She wanted him, then she didn't; she had to make him spin six different directions.

And yet he was always determined to make the twirling come to an end.

"Mare?" his voice was gentle. "Are you okay?"

She was too tired to fight him. What did she care about Abigail being jealous?

"Not really," she laughed bitterly. "You mind if we talk for a few more minutes?"

Foolish question.

"No…" he whispered tenderly. "I don't mind at all."

XXX

**A/N: I worry at this point that you're getting tired of my curve balls where Brandi is concerned; too much drama? There's only one more ahead so hopefully that's okay. I aim to please, but sometimes the heart wants what it wants! ;) **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I got so many reviews on the last chapter – my usual, plus people catching up. Always so nice to have so many in my inbox! Thank-you!**

XXX

Mary tried to picture how this set-up looked to Brandi. Because she wasn't the one about to be gutted like a fish, and _she_ found it daunting. When she opened the door to the operating room, followed by the nurse – Diane – that had been on the shift when they'd arrived, it was to find quite the sight.

Brandi was lying flat on her back on the tiniest of tables, an enormous blue curtain separating her upper half from her lower – likely to shield her from the incisions. The room was mysteriously dark, the only light shining from a set of bulbs located directly above the patient. A team of nurses and Doctor Reese were waiting on the far side of the curtain wearing surgical masks and passing tools back and forth. The shine of the instruments seemed brighter under the fluorescent balls above, glinting dangerously every time they passed beneath.

Mary had to ready herself and took a deep breath as she made the walk to join Brandi, her feet strangely silent on the linoleum as she approached. Quiet she might've been, but Brandi was obviously waiting for her and snapped her head to the left the minute she heard the smallest flutter.

Mary really didn't know how she did it – it was like her mouth had a mind of its own – but she smiled. She also felt her hand find its way onto Brandi's shoulder as it had been before they were separated, like it was automatic now. At least it was for today.

Still with her soft grin, "Hey Squish."

Brandi attempted to return the favor, but her smile was flat and half-hearted; like a little kid who wanted to get their school photo over with as fast as possible. Mary was marginally pleased to see that they'd cleaned her up a little bit since she'd last seen her. Her face wasn't so sweaty and her hair wasn't as matted. It was her eyes that worried the older sister. They were skirting in all directions, trying to find something to grab onto; a lifeline, a raft, a hand in the darkness. There was no question she was scared.

"You feeling any better?" Mary decided to ask, since Brandi was now numb from the chest down.

"I'm really tired," she whispered blankly.

"Yeah, I know," Mary adopted her best sympathetic voice. "Think of it this way. Once they get that kid out of there; you'll say hello, you'll get acquainted, they'll sew you up, and then you'll be able to _zonk_ _out_. How good does that sound?"

It sounded pretty great to Mary too, who couldn't even calculate how long she'd been awake. Brandi was about to answer, it seemed, when a voice from the other side of the partition interrupted both of them with something far more essential.

"Okay Brandi, here we go…" that was Doctor Reese. "You'll be a mom in less than five minutes."

Mary thought back to Marshall's comment about timetables and wished they hadn't placed a stipulation, but she was going to have to have faith that they knew what they were talking about. Brandi had taken to chewing on her lower lip, still looking to be on the verge of tears. Mary wanted that to end now – they were on the fast-track into what was supposed to be the happiest moment. Brandi wouldn't want to remember this where she was featured as a big bundle of anxiety.

Before Mary could put any of this into a thought, however, Brandi beat her to it.

"Mare, I really thought I could do it."

Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Mary knew it was so she could keep from crying.

"Brandi, this was out of your control," she reminded her thoughtfully. "And trust me, nobody hates out-of-control more than I do, but there was nothing you could do here," she went on. "You did your best with what you were given."

Mary couldn't help thinking of the word that had sprung to mind when she'd first heard the baby had shifted again – failure. It would kill Brandi to know she'd felt that way, however unintentional.

"I messed up again…" Brandi wasn't listening, which didn't endear Mary to the situation.

"You didn't," she shook her head. And then, something she had probably never said to Brandi before, "It's not your fault."

Her little sister seemed to brighten as well as she was able at these words, something that solidified Mary's belief that she'd never uttered that phrase. On top of it, Brandi closed her eyes slowly, breathing long and low out her mouth which concerned Mary for a minute until caution came from the other side.

"You might be feeling some pressure, Brandi…" Doctor Reese reported. "It's normal; it shouldn't last long."

Mary removed the long-fingered hand that was supporting Brandi's shoulder and transferred it to her sister's palm lying at her side. Brandi felt the touch and closed in, her nails a little strong on Mary's skin but she could assume it was out of nerves. But, holding hands felt okay right now. It felt like just enough to bridge the gap, but not enough for Mary's usual dislike of contact to shatter into pieces on the floor. She'd been doing a lot of touching today.

"Relax…" Mary whispered easily. "You're doing good. You'll be done soon."

Brandi's lids flickered to life, "I feel sort of funny."

Mary attributed this to fretfulness as well and intertwined her fingers a little closer to show she was in this for the haul.

"You don't have far to go," she promised. "Then you'll be able to rest."

"Yeah…" Brandi whispered, closing her eyes again. "Yeah."

Mary had thought she might go silent again, granting herself a break before the main attraction showed up, but it seemed she wanted to keep talking. Maybe it was helping her keep her head, to not focus on what was going on beyond the drape, and also what had happened before the fact. With this realization, Mary tried to think of something to say.

"You know Squish, after this is all over you'll probably have a gnarly scar…" was her weird offering. "Might even rival some of mine."

"Really?" she still wouldn't open her eyes and her voice had gone warbly.

"Really," Mary tried to laugh to keep things light. "Who'd have thought, right?"

She received no answer this time, but it didn't matter. Something vastly more vital was going on over in the otherworld past the curtain. With a clink and a flash of silver in Mary's left eye, she almost expected the announcement that came after.

"All right Brandi…" there was triumph in the proclamation. "You have got yourself one…" a well-timed pause. "…Very beautiful…" a second, and then, "Baby girl."

And then the cry. It was instantaneous. Even Norah hadn't wailed so quickly, but she'd also been ridiculously early. This little girl, when Mary turned to look at her, was what appeared to be twice the size of Norah at birth, covered in Brandi's insides, her mouth wide open as she announced her very convoluted presence into the world. She was flailing to beat the band, wiggling all over in the hands of Doctor Reese, gasping for air with every shriek that came from within.

Mary was surprised feeling tears in her throat, a lump like a cotton ball as she looked at her little niece; safe and sound and finally going to give her mother a break. Turning to Brandi, she smiled without effort this time and clutched her hand tighter.

"It's a girl…" she whispered rather theatrically for Mary. "Congratulations Squish."

Brandi smiled too, and while it seemed genuine it was also understated. She was trying to stay alert but it seemed such an effort to keep her eyes open. She was happy – maybe even ecstatic somewhere beneath – but it wasn't showing. Mary knew she was spent, but she'd expected something more.

The younger did eventually speak; "Is she all right?" it was like her lips were moving in slow-motion.

"It sure sounds like it," Mary laughed. "She's good looking, Brandi. I'm sure they'll get her to you in a second."

Brandi nodded and Mary saw her swallow. Perhaps in an attempt to perk her sister up, she lifted the fingers on the hand she was holding and pressed them to her mouth; a gesture of pure affection.

"You did great, Squish. I'm proud of you," Mary declared boldly. And then, just to be sure, "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm just tired…" she murmured, something she had said once already, and this time Mary was concerned it was more than just nerves.

Here her daughter had just made it into the world alive – breathing and backwards, no less – and Brandi was behaving like it was some low-budget puppet show. Exhausted she might be, but she couldn't help thinking this warranted some kind of reaction. Unfortunately, there was no room for Mary to prod any further because a run-down was in full swing from the other side.

"Eight pounds, one ounce…" was the first number. "Twenty one inches long…" came the next. "Born at 12:07 A.M.; July 4th, 2012."

It was Doctor Reese who chuckled as she went about her business, "Happy Independence Day, Brandi."

Mary thought that this – _surely_ – was something Brandi could celebrate; her child coming into the world on the Fourth of July, but that was when it happened. Mary's smile was pasted on; it didn't drop off for a minute even as she heard the sounds of the monitors beeping wildly, signaling distress.

And this wasn't fetal distress. This was Brandi.

It took her a second, but her grin faltered when she looked down into the face of her little sister and saw that she had closed down; her eyes were pulled like blinds over windows, her mouth part-way open where it had been when she'd asked if the baby was okay. Mary wanted to shake her, wanted to bring her back, but the tones of those afar stopped her from doing it.

"What's happening? What's happening?" Mary's voice was strangely loud as she spoke over them.

"She's hemorrhaging…!" Doctor Reese again. "Need another set of hands over here! Mary, you're gonna have to leave; I'm sorry!"

She didn't sound sorry, but Mary was less concerned with that now. Her younger sister, her little sister, her _baby_ sister was passing out; she was going under, Mary was losing her. Losing her to blood and wound and injury.

Just like she'd lost her father.

"Mary, come on…" it was Diane who had her arm, but the woman was rooted to the spot.

She would go; she would. She would follow their rules, but she had to figure out what to say first. She had to figure out what to say so Brandi would not go anywhere. So she wouldn't die.

"Brandi, you're gonna be okay…" her attempts to stay rational were not working; her voice began to shake. "You're gonna be okay; don't be scared."

That was important. Brandi hated being scared. That was why Mary had given her Biscuit. To chase away the bad dreams.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" her face felt warm as she squeezed Brandi's hand again, so hard she was afraid she might hurt her. "I'll see you soon, and mom will look after the baby."

She didn't know why she enlisted the job to Jinx, but she had to get out of here.

"Mary, you've really gotta go…" Diane was patient but firm as she tugged on her arm.

She was almost ready. Almost.

Bending over the form of her half-conscious sister, she pressed her lips to her forehead, kissing her, fair and light and fluttering. It felt as though she'd frozen there for moment, just the two of them, like when they'd been children and Mary had kissed her scraped elbow when she fell off the monkey bars.

"_Mary, it hurts! It stings! It hurts!"_

"_I know! I know! Let me see…"_

_The gash was raw red, caked with dirt and littered with gravel._

"_Aw, it's no big deal. That's not scary at all, what are you stupid?"_

"_But it hurts…" the whimper was genuine._

"_Here…"_

_Brandi's hair was golden and flyaway, curling into ringlets and framing her crystal-blue eyes beneath her bangs. Mary kissed the strands, loud and sloppy like any nine-year-old would._

"_Better…" Brandi decided._

"_See. I fixed it. Don't forget I fix everything."_

Those blue eyes wouldn't open, and Mary couldn't make them. She couldn't do anything anymore.

"Squish, I love you."

A single tear fell from her eye as she backed away, tripping on her own feet, through the doors, and out of sight.

XXX

**A/N: I believe one of you guessed we weren't quite done with the hiccups and you were right! But, I promise, this was it (not to give anything away, but I fear I will lose you guys if I don't at least tease that some of the drama may be coming to an end.)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I had some very sweet reviews on my last chapter and I can't tell you how moved I am that I touched some of you so closely. I have a little bit of a fascination with labor/delivery, which is why so many of my stories include it in some way, but definitely haven't been through it myself (23 and still in school kind of hampers such things LOL!) But, I can't tell you how wonderful it is to hear that I captured things so closely for a select few of you; it is a great compliment, and I hope those situations you shared with me have resolved or will resolve themselves!**

XXX

Mary had no idea how she was able to pull it together before blundering back to Jinx, but her one tear dried up and she turned no-nonsense somehow. Brandi didn't need two of them freaking out, and Jinx was more apt to do so. Diane, the kind nurse from the very beginning, told her once she was outside the operating room that hemorrhaging was usually easily fixed, but that it was protocol to boot everyone out when it happened. Brandi had probably just slipped beneath for a moment or two until they could get her stable, but patients were usually fine within minutes. Frightening, but manageable.

When Mary made it back to her mother, she practically shot off the couch at the appearance of her older daughter, tottering over on her heels and ready for all the details.

"Honey!" she exclaimed, much as she had done to Brandi not long before when her water had broken. "How is she? How'd it go?"

Mary did what she did best. The walls went up.

"Well…" she blew out trying to get a grip. "It's a girl."

"Oh!" Jinx went to pieces all at once, flooding her eyes and face; streaming tears into the collar of her shirt. She threw her arms around Mary, blubbering almost incoherently, "How wonderful! Another granddaughter! How wonderful!" she said over and over.

Mary batted her mother away as delicately as she could, trying to figure out the best way to break the rest of the news. She fell back on Diane's reassurances and decided she could use those. After all, a trained professional had given her that report.

"How's Brandi? Is she all right? When can I see her?"

Too many questions. Mary couldn't answer all of them, but at least the first two could be answered simultaneously.

"Well, mom there was a little problem…"

It was not little at all, not in Mary's mind. The inability to yank her sister up was flashing like a bad horror film through her subconscious. It mingled crudely with the images of her father in her arms on the dirty ground and she worked hard to push them away.

"What kind of problem?" Jinx demanded.

"She was bleeding, but the nurse said…"

It was no use, "Oh my God…" Jinx was in crisis mode already. "Oh, poor Brandi. Did she even see the baby? Did she get to hold her?" the tears changed from joyous to distraught in no time flat; her eyes growing dark and sunken with this development.

Mary was forced to shake her head, "No," she was going to choke up too and she couldn't. "I did though. See her, I mean. I didn't get to hold her; they kicked me out so they could work on Brandi."

Jinx's hands were fluttering in all directions; she began to pace on the spot, agitated and tearful with this new set of circumstances. Where did it end? Would they ever be out of the woods on this? When was this hell going away?

Now.

Like a gift from some greater power Mary surely didn't believe in, Diane stuck her head out the double doors where they were still stationed.

"Mary?"

Both Shannon women turned, but she didn't even wait for their approval. It was clear she knew it was important to reveal; no drama necessary, good, bad, or otherwise.

"Brandi's fine," she smiled warmly. "They stopped the bleeding and she's coming around. As soon as they get her stitched up and check her vitals she'll be down in recovery," another revelation. "The baby seems to be holding her own, too – totally healthy."

Jinx breathed an enormous sigh of relief, hand over her heart in a theatrical sign of distress. Well, her mother had always been the drama queen. This time, however, Mary really couldn't help herself from doing the same and nodded, taking care to show her gratitude before the woman got away.

"Thank-you. Thanks," she nodded. "If she asks, tell her mom will be in soon," she jerked her head at Jinx.

Diane agreed and slipped back behind the doors, ready to resume her duties once more. But Jinx grabbed hold of Mary's instructions and stepped closer to her for the rest.

"Are you leaving, honey?" obviously, she thought if she'd just been enlisted to sit with the new mother, Mary wasn't going to join.

"I'll be back up soon," why she said that she had no idea because she really wanted to go home. "I just need a minute, and I promised Marshall I'd call when we knew something," that wasn't exactly what she'd promised, but close enough.

"Okay sweetheart," Jinx touched her arm and fed her a very impressed, albeit marginally patronizing smile, running her fingers up and down that same arm. "You were fabulous today. I know your sister really appreciates your help."

Well, Mary certainly hoped so. Even after all the years she'd spent taking care of Brandi, they really didn't compare to this. And with this as their parting words, Mary turned and headed into the elevator at the other end of the room; hardly daring to believe it was the same one she and Brandi had been inside when they'd first arrived on the scene.

Riding downstairs, Mary kept a hand on the wall, not really knowing where she was going or what she was planning to do when she landed. She just knew she needed to be out of that ward, out of the action, out of the fire at least for five minutes. She'd seen enough of pale and sweaty sisters, panic-stricken mothers and beeping, dominating monitors. Bad news came with all of it and she'd had her fill for the day.

She didn't realize how shaky she was until she tried to walk across the lobby. Her legs wouldn't hold her, and when she reached the sliding glass doors that were going to lead her to fresh air, she wasn't paying any attention to where she was headed.

That was why she ran smack into somebody – a very familiar someday – bumping chests and grappling arms trying to hang on before they hit the ground. She was disoriented when she looked up, still swaying on the spot, the distant voice humming in her ears.

"Whoa!" Mark shouted as he steadied her, bringing her feet to stand firmly on the ground. "Hey!" he laughed. "Sorry about that! I didn't expect to see you down here. I just told you I'd come by earlier and I know it's late but I thought I'd make good on my word…"

But Mary could barely hear him. She could see him. His boyish face, his sweetly innocent brown eyes; he was more than just some juvenile twenty-year-old. He was her friend, and she needed a friend right now; a friend that was not going to place rules and restrictions and stipulations.

Without warning, it was Mark's childlike features, with his little buzz haircut that did her in. Before she knew it, she'd burst into tears. She was weeping and sobbing and blubbering all over the front walk where they stood in the steamy, humid night air in the wee hours of the Fourth of July. And Mark, understandably so, was nothing short of bewildered.

"Whoa-whoa…" it was an entirely different 'whoa' this time. "What's wrong, kid?"

He hadn't called her that in ages. She often forgot he was older than she was. He'd used it to tease her when they'd been fooling around in high school.

"What's the matter?" he pressed, eyes and head darting all over the place trying to catch her gaze and make her talk. "What's going on; why are you crying?"

He was so close it was easy. She fell into him, taking her turn at accepting touch for the day. His arms were a little awkward, but kind of nice as he held her in his chest. Her bawling was loud muffled in his shirt and the tears were hot on her cheeks. She didn't even really care that he could see her. She was sleep-deprived and fatigued and worn-out on worry and trying to be brave.

She couldn't be brave anymore. She couldn't protect anymore.

"I can't do this anymore…" she wept, voicing her thoughts. "I can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what?" Mark persisted anxiously. "Tell me what's going on. Is Brandi okay?"

He pushed her away in an attempt to face her, trying to meet her eyes, which were very waterlogged at the moment. She was still sniffling and gulping, even though she could see how worried he was just by the look of her. He was holding her shoulders now, trying to keep her in one spot.

"Brandi's good…" she finally managed in a gasp, chest heaving as she said it. "Well, she's good _now_ anyway."

Mark wrinkled his eyebrows, "Just now? Did something happen?" And then, "Come over here and sit down; you're scaring me, Mare…"

It was true Mark had never really seen her lose her cool, unless you counted when she'd gone into labor with Norah but he'd known the reason for it that time. He believed the story she fed everyone where she was tough, detached, and always composed unless the situation comprised of something she didn't like. Then she was up and defending her piece for the whole world to hear.

Mary allowed Mark to steer her to a bench offset from the hospital doors where they sat under a yellow bulb casting a weird, flat-sunshine glow in their corner. The main parking garage was beyond, ambulances screaming past every few moments or so. There was no telling what they'd witness sitting here, but the fresh air – even the hot air – felt nice on Mary's sticky cheeks.

"What's going on?" Mark repeated once they were secure side-by-side. "You said Brandi's fine now? She have the baby already?"

Mary nodded, "Yeah. About five minutes ago," she tried to laugh but it didn't work and came out sounding like a hiccup. "A girl."

Mark grinned good-naturedly, "That's great!" he was sweet when he wanted to be.

"It was a long road getting there," Mary admitted, trying to give some explanation for her freak-out. And then, the most abbreviated version she could offer, "We got here at like, 5:30 yesterday morning. Brandi was dying because her back was bothering her so much and it turned out the baby was facing the wrong way – feet-down instead of head-down."

Mark whistled almost like he was awed, "That's not good."

Why did everybody else know that?

"Yeah…" was the only way she could respond before going on. "Well, they were able to do this procedure on her where they turned the baby around and it actually worked, and she was already in labor so they let her go. Only then she got a fever from these meds they gave her to help her sleep…"

"Doesn't sound good either," Mark offered, but Mary ignored that.

"She was okay, but – they didn't say this – but I thought maybe they weren't giving her anything else because they didn't want her to get worse," she'd suspected that; why Brandi had-had to continue on without pain relief. "And after all that – she'd been in labor like, I don't know, twenty hours or something – and the kid flipped the wrong way again."

More shock and awe from Mark. At least he was a good audience.

"So they had to pull her to do a C-section, and seconds after the baby gets here she starts going into something like hemorrhagic shock," Mary swallowed the lump in her throat but more tears found their way out anyway. "She's stable now; so she'll be fine, but…"

Mark was sweet as he saw that she was still crying and put his arm around her. He even kissed her cheek, as he was sometimes known to do. She usually let him get away with it. They had been married, after all. They did have a child.

"Come on, kid…" he did it again. "Come on. Don't cry."

Mary couldn't tell if he wanted her to stop for herself or because he was uncomfortable. Part of her couldn't fault him on that; she'd never been much for sob stories either. To appease him, she sniffled and wiped her eyes, almost glad he was here. She was never grateful for company but she was too afraid to call Marshall anymore. What if he turned her away because of Abigail?

"Hey listen…" Mark continued in seeing she was still shaky. "Brandi's good now. She's gonna be able to sleep, right? If I were you, I'd be doing the same."

Mary shook her head, "I have to go get Norah."

"Marshall can't keep her for the night?" Mark questioned. "Or I can go."

Mary just shook her head again, not sure why or what she even meant by it, but Mark let that one go for the time being. Harassing Mary about rest was never a good idea. Instead, he diverted to what she'd said when she'd first collapsed into his arms.

"Hey, what did you mean when you said you 'couldn't do this anymore?' he was curious, she could tell. "Just the events of the day? Would make sense to me."

He was trying to give her an out, but even Mark was smart enough to know that what she'd uttered in the heat of the moment didn't have to do with the hand she'd been dealt with her sister. He knew how she usually was, and one moment of vulnerability was clearly something he was clinging to. He was going to dig for more.

And for the first time in her life, Mary didn't feel like withholding.

"Mark, I can't take care of everyone anymore," she whispered, staring not at him but at the red-and-blue splashed street in front of her. "It's all I know how to do, but I don't know if I can anymore."

"Why would _you_ have to take care of everybody?" he asked, visibly perplexed. "Where would you get an idea like that?"

He knew her well, but not that well. He'd missed out on a big part of her life where she'd developed those senses to just throw herself in front of the bus when the alarm sounded. It was strange to hear somebody surprised about her self-professed need to protect.

"Mark, I've done it my whole life," she looked at him then, eyes blazing under the bizarre yellow glow. "Don't you remember how Jinx was when we met?"

He nodded with a little more understanding, "Little tipsy, as I recall."

"Try a lot," Mary groused. "And Brandi got a GTA conviction when she was in _high school_, and who knows what the hell she was on at the time. Every time she is within inches of getting herself together, she bombs out again. She doesn't know _how_ to take care of herself; I have to do it so she doesn't end up dead!"

"Mare…" Mark was exasperated, not an emotion Mary was expecting. "That's silly. Brandi may need some help, but she can't rely on you forever. You push her out there; she'll do okay."

"But now she has a _kid_…" she moaned. "What if she ends up paying because Brandi…?"

"I wouldn't speculate like that," Mark shook his head. "I think that kid is just the wake-up call she needs. She has to step up now."

"What if she doesn't?" Mary couldn't resist asking, feeling herself get riled with the thought. "What if she doesn't and…?"

"Then she doesn't," Mark interrupted plainly. "She doesn't. But that doesn't mean it's your fault. She's a big girl, Mare. She's not some dumb kid stealing beer out the back of my truck anymore; she can depend on herself."

Mary wasn't sure this was true, and Mark's words were not entirely reassuring but the conviction with which he stated it wasn't Mary's job anymore was helping. He really seemed to believe it. More than almost anyone, he seemed to think she deserved a break.

But she was welling up again, just the thought of all this too dominating for Mary to hold. Her lip was quivering childishly and those pictures of Brandi passing out, the image of her father bloody and dying in her arms; they were stronger now than they'd ever been.

"Why do I even bother?" she voiced thickly to no one in particular, although she guessed Mark since he was still sitting there. "Everybody I try to keep safe ends up dead on the side of the road anyway."

Mark didn't know about her job so he couldn't know this wasn't completely true, but he sighed hearing her say as much, leaning his elbows forward onto his knees.

"You don't really feel that way do you?" he asked, sounding sad at the thought. "Is this because of your dad?"

He didn't know all the details about James – about his death – but he knew enough. Mary didn't have the energy to agree with him, but he made the assumption and went on anyway.

"You've been different since you lost him," her ex declared even in her lack-of-response. "I've thought it must be rough on you. I lost my dad too, Mare."

Mary decided not to say that Mark had-had a father that loved him, that raised him and adored his mother and didn't leave him in the lurch at seven. Saying all that would make no difference and would just squash Mark's attempts to understand. He was trying; she could tell.

Instead, she went elsewhere, "How'd you get over it?" her eyes were shiny and hopeful as she looked at him.

Mark shrugged, "I'm not sure I did. You live with it; the hurt doesn't go away. But you find a way to move on, at least. I've got my mom," he tried to smile at her. "And I have you, and I have Norah."

Mary was unexpectedly touched by the way he'd lumped her in there with his mother and his daughter. Did she deserve that kind of faith? She always gave Mark such a hard time, but he was here. He'd done more for his child than her father had ever done for her.

Mention of Norah made Mary blunder on rather out of the blue, "I should've let you take her to that fair; she would've had a good time…"

It was making her cry again; she was embarrassed and Mark was looking a little hopeless, but he kept on. Exhaling again, he started to pat her back and attempt to ease her mind where that was concerned.

"We can go another time."

Another time was not Independence Day. Mark also seemed to think he'd run his limit on trying to comfort her, or else thought he was doing a very poor job and threw in the towel.

"I'm gonna call Marshall," he decided as he watched her come undone. "See if you can stay over there with Norah; I don't want you by yourself after today."

The way he doted almost made Mary angry, but she also knew he was doing it because he knew Marshall was her friend, but he didn't know everything. She couldn't let him ask for something like that – it was a huge mistake. Abigail would have a cow.

"Don't…" her hand shot out to grab the one he was curling around his cell phone in his pocket. "Don't do that. I can't do that. I can't ask him to do that."

"Why not?" Mark kept the cell in his hand, but didn't dial. "He's your best friend."

Mark had said the wrong thing. He was trying to get her in control, but such a statement made her spill over yet again. She was so ashamed to have him see her like this; what would he think down the line? He'd think she'd become a total basket case at the drop of a hat.

But she couldn't help the sob that escaped, "I don't think he is anymore."

Her shoulders shook as she said it aloud and Mark sighed for about the fifth time, but he pulled her chin from the ground and made her look at him.

"Don't be ridiculous; of course he is," he tried to look certain, to beam some of his good attitude her direction. "You're just tired; Marshall will be happy to have you stay over; I'm sure…"

"His _wife_ won't," Mary spat over his babble, the word tasting sour on her tongue.

Mark turned confused, "Him and Abigail are married already? I thought they were engaged."

"No…" Mary shook her head, frustrated for her mistake. "They are engaged. That's what I meant."

"Okay, so…" Mark waited, his forehead crinkled in concentration. When he saw Mary wasn't going to give it up, "Why would she mind? She seemed nice; I was over there earlier."

There was something strange about the way Mark spoke about Marshall's engagement. He was very flippant and uncaring; almost like he thought the whole thing was a joke. Like it held no merit. Mary didn't know what that was about; as she was too busy trying to answer his question.

"She thinks we spend too much time together," Mary admitted in a low voice. "I ruined their engagement party when I called Marshall after my dad died and he had to come down to the hospital."

"Well, Mare…" Mark seemed a little disappointed she'd taken that to heart. "It sounds like the timing sucked, but I bet she's over it by now."

"_That_, maybe…" Mary shrugged. "But Marshall and I talked about it. I can't be calling him for every little thing. I need to figure out how to get along without him."

Mark was completely unabashed as he blew right over her claim.

"But Mary, this _isn't_ a little thing," he insisted. "And even if it were, isn't that what a best friend _is_? They're there when you need them, big or small? If Abigail can't see that, maybe they need to discuss it. And if you ask me, they don't act like most couples that are about to get married."

This information was new and Mary felt her tears dry as she questioned him, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, but Mary could tell he did on some level. "Just when I was over there this afternoon. They go through the motions but there's this weird edge – this tension. I don't know what the deal is. You'd think they'd be happy."

But even as he said all this, Mark did not seem overly surprised by what he'd viewed. It seemed like he was trying to tell her something, trying to tell her something with more than just his words. Mark having any intuition at all was a little frightening to her.

"Marshall's been really stressed," was Mary's immediate answer. "He was promoted a couple months ago; he has a lot to deal with."

But apparently, Mark had beat around the bush long enough. He was wearing an almost condescending smirk as he looked at her, shaking his head like he was hardly daring to believe she could be so dim.

"You're-you're kidding, right?" he almost laughed. "How long are you gonna dance around this?"

"What?"

"Look, I don't know why nobody's clued you in to this considering how long you've worked with the guy, but I wanted to tell you the minute I met him," he was laughing again, his brown eyes lifelike.

"Tell me what?"

He was about to start howling and Mary was more bewildered than ever.

"Mare, have you seen the way the guy _looks_ at you?" he flung his hands out, as though he were throwing it to her on a silver platter. "He doesn't love that southern chick; he loves _you_!"

Mark clearly expected such a statement to have more effect on her, but she just stared at him. Her eyes were glistening with the tears that hung suspended, perhaps for later. She looked like she'd been through the wringer, and this enormous pronouncement wasn't getting through to her. Mary thought Mark must be misreading the signals; he was seeing what he wanted to. He wasn't used to the way her and Marshall functioned; they'd always been more than partners, but less than lovers.

"Well…" her voice was a little muddy when she finally spoke. "No, I mean…Marshall does love me. He's told me."

"Mare, get with it," now he was definitely being pompous about the whole thing, like she was dumb. "He is _in_ love with you. I would bet way more than I've got on that."

"No, he isn't," Mary refuted this as her head began to clear. "He's not. Come on, you don't think I'd notice something like that after nine years?" her disbelief was weak at best.

"Well then are you _blind_?" Mark was having way too much fun with this, and he was going to pay if he'd gotten the wires completely crossed. "You see what you want to, kid. You learned a long time ago not to let people in, and Marshall's no exception."

"Okay first of all, quit calling me 'kid,'" Mary demanded, beginning to feel a little bit more like her old self. "I'm not six."

"What's second of all?" Mark was still smirking unwisely, and he was going to get a smack upside his head if he wasn't careful.

But, Mary wavered on the question, trying to calculate where her mind was taking her from here. A long time ago – ages, it seemed – she had maybe suspected Marshall had a thing for her, but she'd thought it was like a crush. He'd been turned on by her brazen, sassy attitude, but the flame had died early. He'd shifted into the quiet land of just getting her to open up a little more; to let herself be loved. Because they were friends.

Mark saw that perhaps there was no 'second of all' and marched onward with his beliefs.

"I've thought it since I've been here," he said in a hushed voice. "The way he was with you when you collapsed on that altar last year? And the way he is with Norah…" he shrugged somewhat modestly. "You two are his yellow daisies and white picket fence."

He used such a statement in hopes that it would make Mary smile because it was so corny. But she was too wrapped up in everything he was feeding her; she couldn't believe she had this to ponder now after her day with Brandi. Instead of acting on the whole 'soulmates' bit, she went back to Mark's very first inquiry, because it was something that had been haunting her more and more in the last few months.

"Mark, I'm worried he's not very happy – for whatever reason," she didn't specify. "And since he's not so much of the time, I feel like it's up to me to fix it. It's what I do; I'm used to taking care of people. But I can't do it for him – I mean, he's _always_ looked out for me and I _suck_ at looking out for him," she admitted sadly.

She knew this was true because in the past, no matter what, Marshall was always the one she _didn't_ have to watch out for. Aside from their partner duties, he handled himself and he also handled her when she needed it. This new job she'd unintentionally given herself where she needed to supply Marshall's happiness, adhere to the rules he'd set per Abigail's request; it was too much. Surely there was a better give-and-take in their new world somewhere.

"Mare, the pressure you put on yourself is unbelievable," Mark laughed lightly. "I don't know how you get up in the morning," he teased. "But know this – legitimately, the only person you need to be taking care of is Norah."

He said it like it was so simple.

"And maybe yourself, once in awhile," he cuffed her shoulder like he knew this would be difficult for her. "I'm pretty sure best friends – non-sexual lovers, whatever you two are – kind of take care of _each_ _other_. Little back and forth, you know?"

For the first time since she'd stepped into Brandi's operating room, Mary managed a smile, knowing what Mark had just said was the best version of her and Marshall possible. Her ex was visibly grateful she had come around and topped off his clap of her shoulder with another kiss on the cheek. She took her turn at sighing and wiped her eyes, ready to put all the emotion away. She'd only just realized how warm it was; the breeze was hot and dusty, even this early in the morning.

"You go pick up the baby," Mark stood up and Mary did the same. "I'll keep your mom company until she consents to getting out of here."

"Okay…" Mary even chuckled. "Thanks."

"You sure you're gonna be okay driving?" he checked, looking her up and down.

"Yes," she chose not to scold him for asking. "I'll be fine."

"Listen Mare…" he reached out and touched her arm one more time. "For what it's worth, you can't get rid of me. I'm not going anywhere."

If she weren't so sleepy, Mary never would've let him get away with wearing his heart on his sleeve like that. And yet, it was of Marshall that she thought when he finished his speech.

"Not _everybody_ you love will."

XXX

**A/N: This one was a little bit longer, but I felt like it had to be! And, I know many of you are missing Marshall but he couldn't be present in this one – not when Mary needed the cluing in! I know some are so-so on Mark, but I really like him; he's easygoing and goofy and I think he and Mary could make good friends (if Mary could learn how to do 'more than one friend!') I promise Marshall is next – thank-you for those of you that are sticking with me! I know I said up-front this was more Mary/Brandi centered, so you all knew what you were getting but I do understand wanting our favorite duo back in action. I hope they live up to their promise!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Here we go! :D**

XXX

It was just after one o'clock in the morning when Mary pulled up to the curb at Marshall's place. She'd forgotten to call and tell him she was coming, but it didn't bother her too much. She wanted to get Norah and go home; he could go to bed after and enjoy his afternoon hike with Abigail the next day.

The house was dark but for a light that seemed to be coming from somewhere near the back, maybe in the kitchen. Flutters of lightning bugs blossomed in the tall grass concealing the front walk, going on and off like strobe lights. It was insanely steamy out; if it was this hot at one in the morning, Mary didn't like to think about how the day was going to fare when the sun came up.

Parking the van, she got out and shut the door, making her way up the walk on legs that felt like they had lead in them. It had been awhile since she'd had such physical aches and pains – a year, at least. She was a rugged broad; it took a big beating to knock her down, but today might've done it.

When she reached the screen, she saw that either or Marshall or Abigail had left it open, just as they'd done almost twenty-four hours before. She had half a mind to tell Marshall off for leaving it unlocked, no matter how close he might be or who he was expecting, but brushed the admonition away. Quietly, she stepped inside and saw that she'd been correct. The light in the kitchen was on, and for a very good reason.

Marshall was lying on the floor on his stomach between the kitchen and the step-up that led to the couch. His chin was perched on his folded arms, and Norah was sitting right in front of his face in her little light green sleeper with the short sleeves. Opposite them was Oscar; the pit-bull Mary had owned before giving him up to Marshall and Abigail. He looked like he was trying to go to sleep, but Marshall had Norah's hand and was helping her pet him. Even from this distance, Mary could see the quiet, nervous smile on her little one's face.

"That's a doggie…" Marshall whispered tenderly. "Is that a doggie? See how happy he is with you? He likes that…"

Mary, tired as she was, couldn't help grinning at the three of them. Norah was enraptured by the feel of the fur, and Marshall let go of her wrist so she could touch on her own.

"He's soft, isn't he?" Marshall asked. "Fuzzy and furry."

Norah gurgled something that sounded like, 'fuzz' but it was too muddled to tell. Marshall obviously hadn't heard Mary walk in, but the minute she took a step on the hardwood, her boots alerted both him and Norah. He whirled around and put on a face of mock surprise, elbowing up to see better.

"It's even better than a doggie!" he declared, flashing his goofy face to Norah's. "It's mommy!"

Norah smiled and Mary's heart melted into a giant puddle as she watched her daughter lose interest in the animal at once, both arms extended out in front of her, fingers flexing. There was no mistaking what she was doing; she was reaching for Mary.

An exhausted sigh escaped as Mary fought not to run to the trio, but dropped to her knees at once the minute she made it into their inner circle. Her big hands had scooped her daughter off the floor in no time flat, pressing her warm little body into her chest. She was soft and wiggly, like a caterpillar; but her hair was silky and her eyes were bright and Mary couldn't stop herself from planting kiss after kiss on her rosy cheeks.

"Hi Bug…" she clutched her so tight it was a wonder her baby didn't suffocate. "Oh, I missed you. I missed you. Were you good for Marshall?" another kiss, on her hair this time.

"Mom…" Norah bleated; something that came out sounding more like 'mud' but she was getting close. "Mom…"

"She was perfect," Marshall assured her, reaching over to pat the little girl's back. "I couldn't ask for a better houseguest. Had a little trouble sleeping after you called though, so we decided to hang out with Oscar for a bit."

Flipping Norah around and settling down cross-legged, Mary deposited her daughter in her lap to face Marshall and the wooly-eyed Oscar. Once she could see him again, Norah started pointing and babbling at once, nothing Mary could understand but it was emphatic if nothing else.

"You mean Marshall let you fraternize with this mutt?" her mother teased. "Brave man," she fed him a half-smile, the most she could muster.

Marshall had no response and chuckled lightly. His instinct had him reaching out and brushing the hair that was falling in Mary's eyes behind her ear. He also wanted a decent look at her features, which were unmistakably dressed in weariness of the worst kind.

"How you doing?" he asked. "I didn't expect you for another hour. Brandi pop earlier than expected?"

Mary nodded, her chin catching the top of Norah's head, "I have a niece."

Marshall's smile was paramount as he heard the news; shining awfully brilliantly for this early in the morning. Mary didn't know how much sleep he'd had either; there were bags under his eyes and his hair was a little limp. And yet, there was something about his appearance that came from more than lack-of-rest. Some of his sparkle was missing, and it seemed he was thinking the same thing about her.

"How's the home front?" he asked, noticing the rings around her eyes as well as how bloodshot they were. "You hang in okay?"

Mary shook her head this time, "Hitches right to the very end. Brandi got herself tangled up in hemorrhagic shock for about five minutes after they did the cesarean."

"Jesus…" Marshall breathed, sounding so much like Mary she almost laughed.

"She's all right now. Hopefully sleeping," as she concluded the report and dropped another kiss on Norah's head.

"Sounds like she's been through the wars. Not to mention you," Marshall acknowledged; he always recognized Mary's pain in addition to those that were actually inflicted with it. "You have had quite a day."

Mary pitied him with another smile, shifting and letting her cheek rest on Norah's flyaway hair. She rocked her back and forth in her lap, coming up with something diplomatic to say.

"It's all kind of blurry now…" except for the part where Brandi lay there motionless. "It's running together. I don't know how I'd still be going if they hadn't pulled rank and gone to cut her open."

"What a lovely image," Marshall mused. "I suppose you got a front row seat."

"Well, I did my best _not_ to glance at the contents of Brandi's reproductive system," she told him. "But, you know, sometimes the eye just strays…" she teased playfully.

Marshall laughed, "Was probably a pretty good-sized kid," he assumed. "Superior to little-miss-bite-sized here, I would imagine," he threw Norah a gentlemanly wink.

"Yeah…" Mary sighed, trying to remember. She'd not cared enough at the time to do the math, but she realized that if Brandi's baby had been just over eight pounds and Norah was less than five then, "She was like, four pounds bigger. Yikes."

Marshall chose not to answer and instead stood up, rumpling Oscar's head as he did so. He gestured for her to join him up on the couch, beckoning with his arm.

"Come on…" he ventured. "Come sit with me a second."

Mary stood, lying Norah in her chest, but objected, "Don't you want to go to bed?"

"I can in a minute," he promised. "Just come relax for a second. It's not exactly comfortable on the floor."

She couldn't argue with that, but certainly didn't intend to keep him long. Abigail was going to wonder what had become of him if they were up talking all night. With this thought came Mark's supposed words of wisdom from earlier. She'd done her best to toss them off, but after the idea had been presented it wasn't so easy.

When they commenced next to one another on the couch, Norah began to squirm to get down, reaching for her ball that was sitting on the coffee table. Mary didn't like the thought of her up on the ledge where she could fall down, but let her go anyway.

"Be careful, love…" she warned, picking the ball up herself since it was in the center and too far away for Norah to grab. "Watch where you're going."

She said it like Norah would actually understand, and intended to keep an eye on her. It was darker up on the couch, the single light from the kitchen casting them in a sort of strange haze. Half of Marshall's face was hidden in shadow as he lounged against the end by the window, rubbing his temple and looking quizzical.

"So…" he began. "You were…_with_ Brandi? When all the drama went down?"

She might've known this was coming.

"Yeah," she shrugged, leaning back on her end. "So? No big deal."

"Really, no big deal?" he asked curiously.

"It was nothing. What?"

Mary said it automatically; it was how she worked with Marshall. But Mark penetrated again, and if she screwed up her mind hard enough she saw it differently. He was asking because he cared, right? Who knew how much or how little? The point was that he cared.

He had his eyebrows raised when she looked at him. He looked so ludicrous in his T-shirt and red baseball pajama pants.

"I mean…I guess it was kind of creepy," she offered slowly. "She was all lethargic and then as soon as they got the baby out she just…" there was an attempt at an indifferent shrug. "Was gone – wasn't awake anymore. Like they'd slipped something in her drink."

"How'd you feel?" Marshall pressed now that he'd been given this much.

Mary sighed, eyes flicking sideways briefly to see Norah hanging absurdly to the leg of the coffee table, ball abandoned. She wanted to pick her up again, but knew she would just whine. Marshall's face was impassive and calm on the other end of the couch. It wouldn't change, no matter what she said.

"Like I might lose her like I lost my father," she emitted a cold-sounding laugh, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Like I'd done a piss-poor job watching out for her."

Marshall was quick, "Despite your prowess in getting individuals to do as you please, I do not think you possess the capabilities necessary to rotate a fetus with some sort of mind-meld," he dictated. "Am I wrong?"

Mary just shook her head and bit on her lower lip, starting to feel extremely vulnerable. With Norah cooing softly nearby, Marshall being so patient; it was the best gift she'd been given all day.

"I just can't stand the idea of letting her go too…" she whispered, swallowing most of the tears even as a couple leaked and rolled down her cheeks. "I know she's a huge wreck most of the time but she's my baby sister…"

Marshall reached out and squeezed her knee, giving the lowest level of comfort he could provide.

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sure you were scared."

Marshall didn't know what made him propose something like that, something Mary worked so hard at contesting every day of her life. But how could it not be true? And it appeared arguing wasn't in the cards right now.

"I get scared a lot."

Her voice was hushed and mortified; even through the darkness Marshall saw her cheeks go red. But he was shamelessly proud of her for owning up to it so quickly. It was a big step for her. This day had to have had some effect on her.

"I know," Marshall said again. "Everybody does. Nobody is exempt."

"My father thought I wasn't afraid of anything," more revelations.

"Well, your father…" Marshall shrugged. "He was an interesting guy. And on some…peculiar level, he was proud of you. I'd try to remember that."

Mary did try. But the harder she tried, the worse she felt because painting James as any kind of hero, any kind of regular father was insane. She'd pined for the man for thirty years and he'd come back the same old guy. Just trying to skirt his way left, right, and center to avoid the law and spewing crap to his oldest daughter that she was still the apple of his eye – somehow, someway.

"I'd just waited such a long time…" she shut her eyes to avoid looking at Marshall's somber face, her voice almost eerily soft as she fought not to well up. "Just to have him leave again…" she finished. "You know?"

Marshall nodded sedately, "I know," for the third time. "I mean…I don't," he clarified. "Not really. I'll never know how that feels. But, I'm glad you were able to tell me about it."

She hadn't really said much of anything; she hadn't broken down and sobbed, spilled all her family secrets. But Marshall was always grateful for anything she let him know. For the first time, she was beginning to wonder why that was. She didn't have to ask Mark.

"Trust me, Marshall…" Mary shook her head. "You don't want the nitty-gritty. Nobody needs to live that."

He leaned forward, off his back, very serious, "Whether I want it or not…"

But whatever he was going to say ended there, and Mary started when Norah interrupted with a high-pitched squeak, something between a whine and a sigh. Whirling to the left, Mary saw that she was standing up; little hands perched at the corner of the coffee table. It was the most awkward of angles; her butt was facing the window on Marshall's end, her head turned the same direction as though she were looking for something. But the rest of her body was still facing the table; she was barely hanging on and her eyes were fixed on the space of floor that separated her from the window.

"She's gonna fall…" Mary's hands shot out like the bullets she so skillfully fired, but before she could touch her daughter, Marshall's bigger ones closed in and held fast.

Mary was jarred by the unexpected contact, wanting to tell him to shove off, but his twinkling blue eyes were reassuring on hers. He was completely tranquil and serene. After a day like today, how could she not appreciate that?

"Wait a second…" he whispered, turning back to face Norah. "Give her a minute."

Mary had every intention of saying no, but held off. Norah had shifted slightly to one side so her torso faced the front door now. The tiniest bounce resonated in her chubby little legs, eyes locked on the window. Determined.

They just sat there stupidly for a moment, until Marshall recognized those telltale signs that Mary was going to struggle again. He released the wrist he was holding and slid down off the sofa, inching on his rear across the floor to where Norah was looking.

Mary's mind finally caught up with her concern. She was trying to walk.

Marshall held out his arms, "Norah, come on…" he said in a quiet voice. "Come over here; come see me…" the sweetest smile played around his tired eyes.

Now that she'd wised up, Mary repeated Marshall's movements and joined him on the ground. She wasn't going to sit there and coax for half an hour, so she just sat cross-legged at Marshall's side while he did all the encouraging. She'd filled her quota on that this Fourth of July.

"Come on my pretty-_pretty_ girl…" one of his arms fell and a single hand lay suspended out there, like he expected Norah to take it. Mary's hand floated onto his resting limb, gripping a little harder than she meant to. "You can do it…" he was so even as he continued to whisper.

Norah's dark eyes were vast on his, like she was testing him to make sure he was for real. But she wouldn't look away. She was resolute in her destination.

And then the kicker from Marshall, "Don't be scared."

Mary knew he was talking to her daughter, but considering everything they'd just battled their way through, he might as well have said it to her. And as if Norah actually knew what he meant, like she was somehow boosted by reassurance, her hands left the table almost in slow-motion.

Mary was certain she'd topple just standing there, but the second the thought entered her mind, her daughter put one foot forward. First one, and then the other. She wobbled, teetered precariously and Mary's mouth fell open, hardly daring to believe she was being such a cliché but she was astounded. The first time she'd let go, and she was successful. That kind of fearlessness couldn't be taught.

Marshall chuckled at the look on her face and reached over briefly, nudging her chin upward as a means to tease her. Norah's third step was the last one – she swayed almost like she was drunk and Mary's hands flew out a second time, only this time they pulled inward. The joy she felt was indescribable; and Marshall's blissful laugh was music to her ears.

"Norah!" she actually used her real name, noting her baby was trembling a little in her mother's arms as though her adventure was a bit too much. "Norah; what a good girl! Good girl!"

Marshall was enchanted, she could tell behind her daughter's head, which she kissed in excess. She felt a little outside herself as her heart swelled; as she watched this man take so much pride in this monumental moment. She surprised even herself at how much it meant; that her little girl, eight weeks early and unplanned, was taking steps before her time.

"Bug, you did it…" Mary rubbed her back.

Marshall leaned over and kissed her too, "You sure did. What a smart cookie you are. A lot of babies don't walk until after their first birthday. Ahead of the game…" he ran his hand over the top of her head. "Like your mother."

Mary smiled, looking at him and nuzzling Norah sideways into her chest, hoping the excitement might prompt her to conk out. Marshall wouldn't glance away; she'd never seen someone look so weary, yet so thrilled all at the same time.

"I've never seen you like this," he proclaimed to his friend. "It's nice."

Mary nodded, "We should probably quiet down, though. We're gonna wake Abigail."

Marshall hedged. He knew his partner – his former partner – had just handed him the perfect opportunity to explain what was going on. But ruining this seemed like a travesty. What was behind – what might be ahead – surely it couldn't compare to this. Regardless, he'd spent a lot of time avoiding the issue lately; not just lately. Now or later, nothing about what had happened was going to go away.

"Not much chance of that…" he sighed, leaning back onto his elbows while she rocked Norah. "Abigail's not here." He was going to wait for her to ask, but then knew he might as well say it, "And I don't think she's coming back."

Mary's face fell almost at once, and the guilt was so evident it could not be denied.

"Oh no…" she whispered, unable to fathom that things had gone from so fantastic to so awful in no time at all. "Oh Jesus…" she shook her head. "Marshall, you didn't. _I_ didn't – I did this…" she wouldn't wait for him to respond. "I'm invading and intruding on your lives and now I've lost you your fiancée…"

"Mary, no…" he sat up again, leaning forward onto his knees so he could see her well. "It has nothing to do with you." And then, "Except, it has _everything_ to do with you."

Was he really going to do this now? Could he really rely on some glossy moment of Norah taking her first steps to push them through what he was about to say? Mary's emotions were very raw; was it fair to put her through this after the day she'd had? Could she think clearly enough? Was there a right or wrong way to put it on the table?

"Mary, I've kept this to myself for a long time…"

"No…" she was shaking her head, holding Norah tighter.

"And I guess I have become royally screwed at hiding it…"

"No, don't…" she didn't want to cry with the baby in her arms.

"But, I can't pretend anymore…"

"Don't…" he wouldn't stop; everything was going to change if he said it.

"I wanted to be committed to Abigail because I never thought I'd have a chance with you…"

"Marshall…" the tears were different this time; they were round and fat and soaked deep into her skin.

"I went to you and told you we needed to undo it a little bit because I thought that would help…"

"It didn't help?" her chest was heaving up and down; droplets were dotting Norah's head in her lap.

Marshall smiled quietly and put his hand on her crossed knee. Why wasn't he more nervous? How did he know what she was going to say? She could kill everything with her run far and run fast attitude.

"It helped me realize that no matter how remote and far-flung we might be, I cannot stop myself from coming back to you…" he wished she weren't crying; it was disconcerting, as he was so unaccustomed to that face on her.

"Because we're friends," she was too tearstained for him to possibly buy that.

And when he shook his head, she knew it was coming. She knew it was true. Mark was right.

"No," he whispered. "Because I love you."

Like some wacky fifties film, her conversation with Marshall on the balcony played in her brain. She could see him telling him he loved her over and over, backpedaling and insisting it was because they were best friends – partners. But he wasn't adding a stipulation this time. There were no footnotes. He was just staring at her, phrase hung heavy in the air between them.

Except for, "I love you and I love Norah."

Him tacking on her daughter made the tears roll faster. When in the hell was she going to get back in control? First Mark and now him. Everybody was going to think she'd had some transformation.

"Mary…" he whispered, and he seemed strangely confident even though he wasn't getting anything in return. "Mary, why are you crying?" he did sound unhappy. "Why does that upset you?"

His eyes were like tunnels as they probed hers for an understanding. Like a tunnel to the clear blue sky. How she'd longed to see the clear blue sky after today.

"Because it's my fault," her words came out clunky and clouded.

Marshall furrowed his brow, "It's your fault I love you?" he asked. "An odd way to look at it – not untrue, I guess, but still…"

"No…!" she allowed her voice to rise, something she hadn't wanted to do because Norah still seemed fairly content even as she wept. "It's my fault I _destroyed_ the life you were supposed to have with Abigail! You would've been happy with her and I messed _everything_ up!"

"The life I'm _supposed_ to have?" Marshall questioned. "Why wouldn't you think I could be happy with you?"

Mary thought, feeling like the ultimate sap, and used the opportunity to adjust Norah higher into her arm. She spread her across her torso so her head was resting on her shoulder and rubbed her back. She could do it forever – stroke and stroke, kiss every now and then. But she knew she had to give Marshall an answer.

"Because all I do is push you away. It's all I've ever done."

"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you push me away?"

She swallowed, holding Norah still tighter, "Because I was afraid I'd lose you anyway."

Mark had said that was who she was – the girl who feared abandonment by everyone, scarred by a father who had deserted her at seven years old. He'd left her with nothing but stilted memories and a gold pendant, telling her to protect, protect, and protect again. She could keep everyone safe. Except for herself.

Sensing her thoughts, Marshall nudged even closer so they were practically in each other's lap. He pressed his lips to her cheek and wove his hand around her neck, declarative and bold.

"Best get used to having me around, partner."

The word made Mary's heart hurt, James' moniker shaking it out of its cage another time. And at the same time, she knew Marshall understood what it really meant and it was with this thought that her lips strayed and found his. They captured the skin, soft and sweet, palpable with security and trust. She'd thought it would frighten her, but it felt like the last piece of the puzzle had found its home. Like she'd known all along this was the one that fit if only she could dig it out of her pocket.

How had she not seen it for what it was all this time? She was terrified of letting Marshall go because he was the first person she'd loved as much as she'd cherished her father – _more_ than she'd cherished her father. She spent day in and out with Marshall, and all it had taken was him professing, plain and simple, that he wasn't going anywhere to open her floodgates, to get her to realize the longing she had felt was more than friendship.

Mary pulled away and sighed, blinking at him, and decided it was time to give him what he was asking for.

"Guess I love you too."

"Oh, just needed to make sure huh?" he laughed.

"Don't toy with me, doofus."

And she kissed him again.

"_I'm coming down!"_

"_Okay, partner! Daddy will catch you; little Squish and I are waiting right here!"_

_Her mother and father were small at the bottom of the slide – she couldn't make out their faces. When she looked up, the clouds seemed so close. She loved how it felt, standing up this high. She could stretch and stretch and tower above the rest – fly like a bird, break her V-formation and soar. She adored the clear blue sky._

"_Sweetheart, don't be afraid…" Jinx murmured from where she held a squirmy Brandi._

_She wasn't. She just relished the view up here. She could stay here forever._

"_Let's go, partner!"_

_Mary plunked onto the slide, shoved with her hands, and took off. Her hair streamed behind her, flowing like a flag in the wind. The metal sung under her jeans, her father's face glinting merrily at the bottom. Her feet hit the dirt and she threw out her arms. He scooped her up and twirled her; spun her 'round and 'round until she felt so dizzy she might be sick._

"_Don't let go, daddy!"_

"_Wasn't that fun?"_

"_Yeah!" she shrieked so loud she echoed. "I'm not afraid anymore!"_

XXX

**A/N: I hope so much that this reads as realistic. I know it might seem a little quick for Mary to be so accepting, but I hope I've shown that underneath her 'can't lose Marshall to marriage' attitude has actually been masked in something bigger. And, after her conversation with Mark, it gave her the courage to act on it, especially after Marshall started to admit it. Anyway, you can be the judge!**

**I think there are four chapters left! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I am so glad the last chapter went over well! I was really hoping it would!**

XXX

Mary woke the next morning to the smell of waffles and maple syrup, a crick in her back and the sun shining harshly into the window behind her head. There was a simmering, crackling sound coming from behind her closed lids and she realized she smelled more than waffles. There was bacon too.

Few things invited Mary to open her eyes more than the promise of good food, and when she did it was to find the long form of Marshall in the kitchen beyond. He was poking a frying pan while Norah sat on the counter beside him, still dressed in her green romper from the night before. She was twirling a small piece of waffle in her fingers, like she was examining it. Judging by the way her cheeks puffed, she already had some in her mouth.

"You make sure you chew that, gorgeous…" Marshall instructed, making chomping motions with his own mouth. "Don't want you choking; mommy would have conniptions, I tell you."

Mary grinned, Norah still looking like the proverbial chipmunk. Marshall was dressed; wearing what looked like jeans from her vantage point and a navy T-shirt. Very domesticated, and much more casual than usual. Her daughter made to eat her stray piece of waffle when Marshall stopped her.

"Oh…" he stuck a hand on his hip, spatula held aloft in the air. "Let me inspect first."

Much more carefully than Mary ever did, he pried her jaws open to make sure she'd swallowed – like she was a dog – and signaled his approval.

"All right – all gone," he proclaimed. "Chow down."

Seeing Norah devour her second piece, Mary decided it was about time she joined them. Climbing off the couch, she adjusted her top and moseyed toward them at their station, wondering what a sight she must be. She could tell as she ran her hand over her hair that it was tangled in back.

"Hey, morning…" Marshall looked up briefly as she approached. "How'd you sleep?"

Mary couldn't even remember going down. Marshall had tucked her into the couch like she was four years old and left her in his living room while he put Norah to bed. She'd crashed before she'd been able to see him return and slept through the entire night, brain too jammed to stay awake any longer.

"Really well…" she replied, craning her neck to kiss Norah. "How long have you two been up?"

"Couple hours," Marshall shrugged. "Thought we'd attempt some breakfast for when you joined the world of living," he smirked. "It is a holiday, after all."

So it was. Mary began to wonder how far into this holiday they were when she glanced at the clock on the microwave and saw that it was almost noon. Flabbergasted, she tried to wrap her head around such a concept and couldn't do it. Try as she might, Mary couldn't remember _ever_ sleeping until twelve, even when she'd been younger. Her job and internal clock kept her working on a strict schedule. And with Norah these days, any kind of rest was pretty unpredictable.

"So, what'd I miss?" she asked, fiddling with Norah's sleeper. "Since I was out for about ten hours." Her daughter was trying to feed her a strip of waffle and she took it, "Thanks Bug…" popping it in her mouth.

"An equivalent to the number of hours you were awake," Marshall spouted in reference to the time frame. "And, a few phone calls," he answered her question. "Mark called once and your mom called twice."

"What'd they want?" she asked, sniffing the bacon he was turning to see if it was almost done. "To reel me in like the big catfish?"

Marshall chuckled as he revolved the burner down and flipped the bacon onto a nearby plate, "Mark was just checking up on you. I guess he was a little worried after he saw you last night?" there was a question on the end there, as Mary had made no mention of Mark during the evening prior.

"Yeah, we ran into each other at the hospital…" she mumbled around another mouthful of waffle. "Next."

"Your mom had an update on Brandi the first go around," Marshall supplied, Mary snatching the freshly-smoked bacon from under his nose at once. "She's doing great. They should be able to release her sometime mid-week."

Mary tried to bury the thought that she was about to have a house full of people again and focused instead on Marshall's opening sentence.

"So, what'd she say the second go around?" she prompted. "You said she called twice."

"Oh…" there was a playful smile on Marshall's lips as he watched her chew her bacon. "She forgot to mention that the baby now has a name."

A weird and silly internal panic hit Mary's insides at these words. She couldn't imagine the sort of title Brandi would give her child. Schmaltzy soap opera names and outlandish spellings spun themselves in her subconscious. How embarrassing might this be?

"Don't get hypertension," Marshall must've noticed the look on her face. "It's pretty neutral. Robyn – Robyn with a 'y,'" he clarified. "Kind of like Norah with an 'h' right?" he didn't want her to pound this into the ground right away.

"Yeah, if you're talking about _birds_," Mary scoffed.

"That would be robin with an 'I,'" Marshall couldn't resist pointing out. "Case in point. And before you frown upon the decision, I think the meaning of said name should be taken into account. Robyn, derived from Robert, is English and stands for 'bright fame.'"

Mary scowled anyway, but she couldn't deny what came out of her mouth, "Very Brandi."

"Quick to sneer, you may be," Marshall conceded. "But let's hope the full title endears you to the choice."

"And why would that be?" Mary asked snidely.

"Because according to Jinx her newest granddaughter is not just Robyn…" to the woman's surprise, he leaned over and laid a slow kiss on her lips, grinning when he emerged. "She is Robyn Mary Shannon."

Mary wanted to remain disgruntled but found she couldn't. She was also too busy feeling her heart dance around in her ribcage at the sensation of Marshall's lips against her flesh. She had a familiar impression at that moment, like she'd experienced the day before – like she was living in somebody else's life. She could've sworn she was in some grotesque Hallmark movie, with the food and the doting man and the cute baby on the counter.

With all this, she imagined her face must've gone blank because Marshall furrowed his brow.

"What?" he asked, maybe a little hurt she wasn't getting all wrapped up in it.

Mary tried to remember last night. He loved her. He'd said he was _in_ love with her. She'd said it back. She'd meant it then. She supposed she still meant it _now_. It was hard to tell, here in all the bustle with the bright lights.

"Doesn't this feel…?" she looked down and noticed her plate was empty. "I don't know. Surreal to you? I mean, less than twenty-four hours ago you were engaged to somebody else."

The thought made her stomach start doing flip-flops. Mary didn't do 'compassion' very well, but she suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Abigail. Here they were, sharing breakfast and her daughter, and she was likely crashed on some friend's couch, picking up the pieces of her broken romance.

Marshall's face did dampen with Mary's realization, and she remembered how sad she thought he'd looked last night before spilling his guts. He had to feel horrible. She didn't need to remind him, and she ditched the plate in case she needed her hands free for whatever came next.

"I…well…yes…" Marshall admitted, replacing his spatula to the counter. "Yes, it's strange. I can't even begin to contemplate how Abigail must be feeling, and the next few months are not going to be the proverbial sunshine and roses…"

Mary looked befuddled until he went on.

"She'll have to pack her things and I'm not sure about the house; she has to make arrangements for Oscar…"

"Wait a minute; wait a minute…" Mary cut him off at the last word. "She's taking Oscar?"

Marshall didn't seem overly bothered, "Well, since I'm getting you and a baby…" he smirked sadly as he looked at Norah. "Seems like a pretty even trade."

"Yeah, about me…" Mary brushed over his explanation about the dog and stepped toward him. She'd never noticed just how tall he really was; he all but towered over her when she didn't have her heels on. "Marshall…"

Mary sighed. She wanted to do this right, especially in the clear light of day. It was going to be helter-skelter for awhile and 'in love' or not they could not plunge recklessly onward. She had Norah to think about as well as herself.

"I don't know how this is gonna go," she informed him as delicately as she could. "I've blown so many relationships all to hell because I jumped in way too soon and then killed myself to get out. I _suck_ at commitment."

"You don't suck at commitment," Marshall reassured her with a shake of his head. "Not _all_ kinds of commitment, anyway. You're a little lapsed in this kind, I'll grant you."

She didn't even smile. She was too worried about getting this done. She felt foolish in clothes she'd been wearing for God knew how long. If she wanted to be serious, it might've helped to _look_ serious.

"I can't just pretend the last year didn't happen, Marshall," his eyes were focused on her; he was listening. "And, I want to give this a go…" she found herself saying. "And I _do_ love you…" it sounded better the second time. "But not realizing it or recognizing it or grasping it or whatever the hell it was I was doing all that time…"

"Mary, you're getting a little long-winded," Marshall interrupted quietly, putting a hand to her chest. "We'll take each day as it comes," he promised, fingers long and relaxed on her ribcage. "And, if any part of it makes you uncomfortable, you let me know. You've never had a problem letting me know how you feel," he winked.

Smiling came a little easier this time, and even as she doled out all the facts as she knew them, Mary also couldn't help thinking about how _right_ all this felt. It was a little bizarre, but it also had a quiet comfort to it; like she was stepping into that fairytale, movie life in which she'd never belonged. She knew it wasn't that simple; her existence had always been fraught with speed bumps and roadblocks. But it wasn't so hard to face them when you had a hand to hold along the way.

"You burned the bacon, by the way," she decided as a means to tell him she understood what he was saying. "Little too crisp, Poindexter," she shoved a finger in his chest.

"Well, I'll work on another batch," Marshall decided. "Little missy here can help me out," he swept Norah off the counter where she began to pluck at his T-shirt.

"Afraid I'm gonna have to take a rain check on that," Mary told him regretfully as she fingered her daughter's chubby little arm sticking out. "Something tells me by Norah's attire that she is out of clothes, and I need to change too. I'm starting to smell like a pig in a barnyard; I've been in the same shirt since yesterday morning."

"All right then…" Marshall agreed. "You want to meet up later?" he asked casually. "I have been shocked and awed for the past two days that nothing work-related has presented itself. Witnesses in limbo don't take off for holidays."

"Yeah, you just jinxed it wise-ass…" Mary teased as she reached for Norah, who whined when she was pulled out of Marshall's grip. "Hush Bug; I know."

"Speaking of…" Marshall recalled her first statement and the word she had used. "I told your mother you'd stop by the hospital sometime today to visit Brandi. You want to go over later this afternoon?"

"Um…" Mary was distracted, trying to keep Norah from yanking on her hair. "Sure. I guess. I'll call Mark and have him join. He's been missing some time with this…" she was really pulling now and it hurt. "Christ, she's like Sweeney Todd!"

Marshall laughed, "I see you are otherwise occupied and can no longer accurately answer my inquires. I will stop by the house later."

"Fine…" Mary sighed. "You good with Mark?"

"Yeah, absolutely," there was no hesitation; no replacement to be made.

Mark was daddy and Marshall was Marshall – nothing wrong with that.

"Okay…" Mary carted Norah around the kitchen counter in an attempt to gather her things together so they could get out of the house. "Hey Marshall…"

She was already on the other side when he glanced up. His hair was a little knotted in front where he'd raked his fingers through it, and there was the tiniest hint of stubble on his chin where he hadn't shaved. Seeing him stand there, making breakfast for her as naturally as if they'd been married for fifty years; she couldn't help it. Corny be damned; she never wanted to let go of this.

"I like being here with you."

It was the best she could do, accompanied by a quiet but sincere smile. Marshall gave her the same. It was the best she could do, but it was all he needed.

"I like being here with you too, Mary."

XXX

**A/N: Robyn is one of my favorite names, and I would likely spell it 'Robin' with the 'I,' but I couldn't help feeling that Brandi would go with the 'y' as it is more girly, I guess!**

**Three to go! Thanks so much to all who have read and reviewed; it really does brighten my day!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Not too many chapters left, I am sorry to say! But here's the next one!**

XXX

It never felt so good to Mary to walk through her own front door. Even after having been with Marshall, there was nothing like it. It was as though she'd been away for weeks, and she expected the house to be empty when she stumbled inside, balancing Norah on an arm. However, there was a cheerful and familiar voice carrying through when she stepped onto the threshold. Part of her was disappointed, as she hadn't been by herself in ages, but a second thought occurred among the first. She'd have someone to watch Norah while she showered and changed.

"Mary honey, is that you?" the tone sounded from the kitchen, and the woman was not at all surprised to see Joanna rush out, ready for action. "You're home!" she declared. "Was starting to think I wouldn't see you till the New Year!"

"Yeah…" Mary laughed, a little breathless from holding both Norah and the diaper bag.

"Let me take her…" she waggled her fingers, indicating Norah. "Come on, sweetheart…"

Mary was perfectly fine handing her over, anxious to give her arms as well as her legs a little bit of a break. Her daughter had become fussy in the car, worn out from not having slept well the night before, but she whimpered somewhat contentedly in Joanna's arms.

"Oh, did you miss Grandma?" Mark's mother crooned at the little one, and then turned back to the other parent. "How _are_ you, Mary? I can't imagine, after the night you had…"

"Morning, noon, _and_ night…" Mary sighed, dumping the bag on the floor. "More like. Better now than I was; I slept over at Marshall's."

She realized at once how that sounded, but fortunately Joanna didn't think anything of it as she fiddled with Norah's fingers, which were sticky with syrup.

"Oh, your charming partner…" she nodded knowingly. "How nice that he let you stay. Mark filled me in on everything with your sister. What an ordeal."

"Ordeal would be one way to put it," Mary chuckled again, surprising herself and also reflecting over her comment about Marshall's status. Leaving the latter for later, "Hey, Marshall and I were going to stop by and see Brandi later and I was gonna ask Mark to come along. I'd have you to watch Norah for a little while, but I think I'll take her by; Mark's been wanting to see her."

"Oh, of course honey…" Joanna agreed at once. "Mark would love that, and then he can take her home for a bit. I can look after her now though; why don't you go get cleaned up?"

She knew she'd been through the wringer and knew how she was needed right now. Mary was hard-pressed not to be grateful for it.

"Thanks," the younger woman expressed. "She needs to be changed too," she indicated Norah's pajamas. "I only sent a couple outfits to Marshall's; this was what she had on last night."

"Don't worry about a thing; go take a nice shower…" Joanna was already making eyes at the baby. "We'll be just fine."

It wasn't always so bad – this being 'taken care of' thing. How come nobody had ever told her how nice it could be? Mary made for the bedroom at once with the leeway, and was halfway there when she noticed the coffee table. This sparked something in her memory, and she knew she ought to share with Joanna. A whole new world had opened for her daughter in the wee hours of the morning.

"Joanna?" Mary turned back around, and the grandmother looked up from whatever goofy game she was playing with Norah. "Make sure you keep an eye on her because…" she tried to help the cheesy, gleaming smile that worked its way onto her face but she couldn't do it. "She went mobile last night. She's walking."

Joanna about had a fit. Mary wondered if Jinx would be the same when she heard.

"Oh, my precious-precious girl; you did not!" she crooned, asking the baby as if Norah was going to confirm. "What a clever girl you are!"

Leaving Joanna to praise her granddaughter, Mary continued her jaunt to the bedroom, more than ready for that shower. And when she finally stepped inside, her daughter's babble a distant hum, it was bliss. It was the first time she'd been able to think freely in what felt like eons. The steam was suffocating in the best way possible; the water hot, striking her skin in all her sore places. She stayed inside such a long time, she worried Joanna might believe she was drowning herself. But she had no inklings of stepping out – not yet.

Over and over, she told herself what she'd been through since four o'clock in the morning on July the third. Her sister had gone into labor; after twenty excruciating hours, she'd delivered a healthy baby girl and hovered on the brink of civilization in the process. Mary was an aunt. After the fact, she'd spilled her guts to Mark and he'd followed up by telling her Marshall was wild about her.

And he was.

He was, he was, he was; the shower seemed to sing it with each jolt through the nozzle. No matter how many times she went over it, it was still true. Everything else – the fact that he'd left Abigail, that he was losing his dog and gaining her daughter in some capacity – it was fuzzy. But the most graspable kind of fuzzy there was.

Mary was still thinking about all this, and grinning goofily to boot, when she emerged from her downpour and rejoined Joanna and Norah. In her drawstrings and a tank-top, wet hair pulled sloppily into some sort of bun on her head, she found them sharing a book on the sofa.

"Hey Bug…" she sat down beside them, finally having a free moment to do so. "Aren't you looking…festive?"

Glancing up and down at her daughter, freshly changed by her grandmother, it was with as little disdain as she could manage. She wondered if the dueling-grannies had conspired on this one because Norah had on navy shorts and far and away the most feminine top Mary had ever let in the house.

"What is she wearing?" she couldn't resist, trying not to hurl at the ensemble.

The shirt, which was _almost_ the worst part, was white with some sort of – dear lord – ruffles. It was adorned with red and blue stars across the bottom, with straps in navy and smocked on top with crimson piping. But the kicker was the matching bow Joanna had stuck on her head.

"Doesn't she look darling?" Joanna plucked at the fabric adoringly. "I know you're not much into the girly-girl, Mary – trust me, I know," she fed her a devious look. "But your mother and I saw it, and we just couldn't help ourselves."

So, Mary had been right. Jinx _had_ been in on the plan.

"Just…" she was lucky Mary was in a good mood. "Take the bow off, okay? Please…" she plucked it loose without waiting for Joanna to do so. "She's not one of those kids in those creeptacular reality shows where they pile six pounds of makeup on them before they're even two. Nuh-uh…" she shook her head and wagged her finger, tossing the hair-tie to the coffee table.

"Oh, mommy's such a pessimist…" Joanna crooned, Norah batting her hands to the book, wanting to hear more. "As if I'd ever put you through such a thing. You're just all trussed up for the holiday, and so you'll look nice when you meet your new cousin."

Mary wanted to fight that reasoning, but she really couldn't. She supposed two special occasions in one day warranted somebody pulling rank on her usual unisex outfits. The grandmothers had been dying to get Norah in something pink and flowery for ages, not to mention Brandi.

"Jinx will be hoarding Robyn to dress like this for the next eighteen years of her life," Mary quipped, fingering the material on Norah's shirt to see what it was made of. "You'll have to bug her to share."

"Oh, is that her name?" Joanna asked eagerly. "Brandi's baby – Robyn?"

"Yeah-yeah…" she nodded. "Robyn Mary Shannon," she didn't mention the spelling, too enthralled with the entire title to bother.

"Isn't that lovely…" Joanna beamed. "So nice Norah here will have someone to play with now…"

Mary was about to say that the girls wouldn't be doing much playing for awhile when there was a knock on the door. She couldn't imagine it was Marshall already, but she supposed it was possible and got up to answer, forgetting she was still dressed from her shower.

"Just a second…" she told Joanna, who nodded and returned to her book.

But when Mary reached the hatch and turned the knob, sun almost blindingly bright on the other side, it was the second time she'd been thrown for a loop in her own home in the last two months. Nothing beat seeing James' face on that end; it was true, but still. Mary was getting a little tired of being shocked all to pieces, only this time she knew it was important to keep calm.

The dark hair, the green eyes; the nervous smile with the hands in his pockets. It had been nearly a year since she'd laid eyes on him.

"Peter," she breathed. "Hi…"

"Hi Mary," he removed one hand to wave even though they were about a foot apart. "Could I come in?"

"No, sure…" she jumped aside, feeling dumb for not having invited him.

In all the run-down she'd just done of every little detail, how could she have forgotten Peter?

He stepped onto the threshold, voicing his thanks, and Mary shut the door behind him. They were both shuffling around a little awkwardly; both trying to smile to break the tension but not all of it was evaporating. Mary was about to ask him to sit on the couch when she remembered Joanna, who was looking curious from her place over yonder.

"Mary, you do have a profound number of men visitors…" she stated almost admiringly, clearly wondering who this one was.

"Yeah…" she tried to laugh as the woman stood, palming Norah and got on making introductions. "Sorry Joanna, this is Peter. He's…" she hedged as she approached, but finished quickly. "He's a friend of Brandi's."

"Oh, you must be very excited then," Joanna assumed, bouncing the baby to keep her from fussing.

"Uh…yes…" Peter said, offering his hand, which she shook as well as she was able.

"Peter, Joanna is Mark's mom…" Mary furthered the conversation as best she could, side-stepping Joanna's thought. "You remember Mark?"

"Oh, sure; he was your date to…" Peter cleared his throat as he realized; nothing if not polite. "Anyway…" he just shook his head. "Nice to meet you Joanna."

"Likewise," she was still grinning mischievously, like she suspected something else was going on. Mary couldn't entirely blame her; since she'd come to help out they'd had to contend with Marshall, James, and Raph at the door. "Honey, I'll take Norah into the kitchen so you two can…do whatever it is you need to do," she fumbled.

"Thanks," Mary nodded. And then she recalled she needed to finish up, "This is Norah, by the way," she kissed the baby's temple as means to introduce her to Peter.

He smiled, maybe a little more anxiously than he might've done ordinarily, and he was staring a little bit. It was an odd look on him, but considering the circumstances Mary was astounded he wasn't a complete whirlwind of chaos. She imagined him looking into the eyes of her daughter made him question and picture the eyes of his own.

"Hi Norah…" he picked up her little hand briefly, but that was all. "She's beautiful."

"Yeah well, the outfit's temporary," Mary groused, proving she was still herself.

Joanna laughed, "Enjoy you two…" and she made a quick exit; one of her strong suits.

The uncomfortable air persisted even after she was gone. Mary felt self-conscious in what were basically pajamas with her hair all damp. She and Joanna didn't exactly have the appearance of people who had merriment planned for the holiday, despite Norah's attire. Mary had thought her daughter stood out oddly amongst the disarray in her Sunday best.

"Come on Peter…" Mary suddenly sighed and gestured him to the couch. "Come sit down. You want something to drink?" she should probably offer.

"No thanks," he was wringing his hands as he followed her directions.

Mary joined him, and knew that she was going to have to do most of the talking here. There was no telling how Peter's head was spinning. Mary didn't even know how much he knew yet, outside of what she'd told him the day before. But here he was, as promised, ready to face the woman who had ditched him, left him feeling rejected and worthless as he stood under what Marshall had so skillfully called a 'chuppah.'

She decided to start with a boost to his ego, "You look well, Peter. Not _awful_, anyway," she smiled to show she was teasing.

"Same to you," he nodded kindly. "I mean, I know it's been like – what, a year?" he calculated. "But I'm glad everything was all right after…" he shrugged. "The baby came early and everything."

"Yeah," Mary nodded too. "No, we're good. Norah's been…" she shook her head, fighting not to glance into the kitchen and wondering if Joanna could hear all this. "Well, about the greatest bout of…anything unplanned I've ever done."

Mary knew it wasn't very poetic, but it put her feelings into words the best way she knew how. And lyrical or not, what she'd said seemed to have a weighted effect on Peter. His face changed from mildly interested and informal to deep – extremely serious. He was swallowing about as much as Mary had been yesterday, running his hands up and down the legs of his jeans. She wanted to tell him to spit it out, but he did before she found a tactful way to do it.

"I talked to Jinx…" his voice was theatrically low, almost fearful. "I have a daughter?"

He was very blunt, but Mary had no issue with that. It was how she functioned best.

"According to Brandi, you do," Mary nodded. "Have you talked to _her_ yet?"

"No…" he shook his head. "She doesn't even know I'm here – or that I was planning on coming; Jinx doesn't either."

"Why the secret?" Mary couldn't help wondering, since he was in fact here in the flesh and obviously planned on seeing all of them.

More swallowing. More agitation. More concern in his green eyes. She was feeling worse and worse for him by the minute; he looked like a missing dog someone had left in a cardboard box on the curb. Despite her intuition, Mary couldn't quite figure out what the face was about. She understood that he'd been blindsided, but he looked so sad.

"I just wanted to talk to you first," he finally admitted. "I wanted to ask you something."

Flummoxed but willing to play along, "What?"

Another round of the same gestures from Peter. She was going to be old and grey by the time he got this out; he was doing a spectacular job of testing her patience. But part of her also thought that after yesterday, her patience had been strung apart quite a bit and she could withstand a lot more now. Given almost a year with Norah, you'd think that would've happened a lot sooner.

"You just said yourself that Norah was…" he was trying to be cordial with the wording. "Unplanned."

"Yeah…"

"How'd you…?" he actually laughed, but he sounded a little tart in his chuckle. "How'd you ever…get it together enough to…" there was no good way to say it. "To…become an actual parent? How'd you come to terms with it? When did you get the conk over the head that it was actually happening…?"

He was going to go on, but Mary stopped him, "Peter, enough. I get it. Don't make yourself hoarse here."

He nodded; looking slightly embarrassed for rambling and went silent as he waited for her response. Only the trouble was, even though everything he'd said was true, she didn't really know what to say. She'd never considered herself one who had pulled up the bootstraps, saddled up, and shipped out when it came to Norah. She'd figured it out as she went, bumbling along and tripping all the way. Because she'd had to – she just did. She supposed this answer worked on some level.

"Peter, I don't know," she was honest and forthright; nothing else. "Nobody taught me how – I mean, okay, I had Jinx and eventually Mark's mom, and Mark himself but…" she shrugged, as though it were all so simple. "I've screwed up zillions of times. So will you – so will Brandi. _That_ I can be sure of," she emphasized. "But Peter, near as I can tell, there are two kinds of people in this world…"

He was looking at her like she was spouting some irreplaceable wisdom. It was a shocking thought, but she did keep going.

"People who procreate because they've got some better version of themselves to throw at the world and hopefully make it a decent place down the road…" she paused. "And people who procreate because – what? – they have nothing better to do? Because they made a mistake? Because they sucked their way through life and want another half-assed shot with someone who may or may not do a better job?"

Peter laughed again, "That sounds like about six different kinds of people," he observed. "All of them pretty negative."

"Okay, so I'm not good at the sentiment," Mary confessed. "But, I was sure I fell into the second category. I'd screwed up and didn't have the ways or means to give a kid a better life than the one I lived."

"But…" he started to say.

"Look, whether I am or not remains to be seen," she clarified. "But I saw Norah – tiny and unspoiled and pure and _all_ those possibilities," she shut her eyes as she stuck it to the single word, and then reopened them again. "I don't know whether I deserve it, but I couldn't miss out on that. I love her _way_ too much to ever deny her _anything_ less than _she_ deserves," this was getting awfully deep for Mary. "I got her here. It's my job to make sure her best is also mine."

Peter sighed, likely not having expected such an in-depth answer but it was clear he was pleasantly surprised. His lifeline was in there somewhere; that amongst all the bedlam and pandemonium there was – somehow, someway – still time to love your child. Love never ran out of room.

"Peter, I really don't know what the hell I just said…" Mary found herself backtracking. "It sounded like crap to me. What I really wanted to tell you is that you have nothing to worry about," she was very certain. "You're gonna do right by Robyn; you're gonna love her. You always swing to upstanding and…you know…" she gestured up-and-down indiscriminately. "Honorable and all that."

Peter's eyebrows flew up at her last statement, and Mary thought it must be because she was voicing how highly she thought of him, but apparently it was for a different reason.

"Robyn?" he whispered. "Her name's Robyn?"

"Jinx didn't tell you?" Mary wilted. "Damn woman. Does she not know what qualifies as important what doesn't?" she rolled her eyes. "Sorry Peter…"

"Robyn with a 'y?'" he wasn't even listening.

Weird.

"Yeah…" Mary bobbed her head slowly. "How'd you guess?"

He gulped, "Robyn is my sister…"

"Your sister in Flagstaff?" that didn't seem right to Mary.

"No, my sister that I…" he wasn't going to cry, but he had a strangely emotional look on his face just the same. "That I never met."

Mary fed him her best quizzical look before he unleashed the rest.

"Before I was born – about two years before, I guess – my parents lost a baby to a premature delivery," he explained. "Twenty-eight weeks."

Four weeks sooner than Norah. If she'd been eight ounces shy of five pounds, how big had that baby been?

"Jesus…" Mary couldn't stop herself.

"As I understand, it was a rough go from the start, but my mom and dad were devastated," he furthered his details. "But, that was supposed to be her name. Robyn."

And there was no denying Brandi had known that. There was also no denying now why Peter had zoned in on the horror of Brandi's experience the minute Mary had called – why he'd wanted to know if she was all right, why he was in the here and now. Other than the obvious.

"Well…that's her…" Mary attempted to slide over that so Peter wouldn't have something else to worry about. "Robyn Mary Shannon."

She never got tired of saying that, and Peter seemed to take it to heart as well by the way he grinned. Mary just hoped that Hal and Dora wouldn't take too unkindly to the name choice – Brandi had undoubtedly done it to show some sort of devotion to her father, but it was going to be tough weaning her back into that fold in whatever capacity they worked out. They'd had their reservations about Brandi from the beginning.

"I told my mom what was going on…" Peter spoke over her thoughts like he'd been reading her mind. "She was actually happy, if you can imagine. She's wanted a grandchild for years, and she's trying to be mad at Brandi but experience with a tough delivery can kind of soften you in that area."

Well, at least one of them was going to be on board. And with that liberating thought, there was a second knock on the door. Mary left Peter sitting by his lonesome on the couch while she went to see who guest number two was.

At least it was expected on this front in the form of Marshall, still in his jeans, belt, and navy T-shirt. He looked like he was ready to go grill hot dogs, not take a trip to the hospital. Other than the fact that he was carrying an enormous bouquet of Mylar balloons, all stamped with various baby-girl-themed congratulations.

"You trying to get Brandi high on helium?" Mary asked as she let him in, examining the bunch. "No wait – don't tell me. Something _else_ is in these aluminum gas bags, right?" she poked one with her finger. "Hydrogen? Nitrous oxide?"

Marshall grinned, "You were right the first time. Helium it is."

"Holy God, doofus!" Mary squawked. "That's all you got? No pointless garbage to go along? _That_ is a milestone, right there! First Norah and then you!" she clapped him heartily on the back.

He smirked and gave her the once-over, "That's a cute outfit," he observed. "Been swimming?"

"Showering."

She'd completely forgotten about Peter until he stood to make his presence known. She'd filled Marshall in briefly the night before, but she was willing to bet he was about as surprised as she had been at his sudden appearance.

But, as Marshall did so well; he turned his charisma right on. Had he had charisma before today? Surely, he had. Why hadn't she noticed?

"Peter!" he gave a great booming laugh and bounded over to shake his hand, saddling Mary with the cloud of balloons, which flurried in her face. "How are you?" he asked

"Well enough…" Peter said diplomatically. "I didn't realize I was interrupting…" his fingers waggled from Mary to Marshall and back again.

Any other day or time, Mary might've thought Peter believed he was just intruding on a get-together. But he was putting two and two as one at lightning speed, eyes darting back and forth like _they_ were the ones taking it all in.

"I didn't know you two…" his speech was still slurred from his last sentence, like he was talking as it all came to mind.

Mary rolled her eyes hastily, "It's a recent development, okay? _Really_ recent."

Peter started to chortle, glad he wasn't the only one with unexpected plans this Fourth of July. He and Marshall immediately began to chat it up, depositing themselves on the couch, Marshall waving his fingers to Norah in the kitchen. He even signaled to Joanna, who did the same.

Watching him from afar, Mary couldn't help noticing the alarming change in him. The way he carried himself, the way he could talk with the ease that he used to, the way he got that glint in his eye; all of it was magical, like a Marshall she knew from a former life had come peeling out of the woodwork overnight.

And it only took one guess as to why.

XXX

**A/N: I'm honestly not sure why I threw in the story about Peter's 'sister.' I just thought it would be a nice touch, but who knows. XOXO**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Thank-you for all the lovely reviews! I am going to miss getting them!**

XXX

Mary felt suspiciously like a circus when she entered the maternity ward with Marshall, his balloons, and Peter. Peter had insisted, over and over and _over_ again that he didn't want Brandi to know he was there until they were sure they could be alone together. He didn't want a lot of fuss; he didn't want to steal any thunder. And so, he stationed himself in the waiting room while Marshall bobbed along with the spheres he called party favors and Mary secured Norah on her hip.

Mark, the reason for Norah coming along, was already there when they made it to Brandi's room. He was laughing like some kicky sixteen-year-old, standing at Brandi's bedside and twirling a strand of her hair. Was he flirting? Mary really couldn't tell. He was probably just trying to make Brandi feel better about her appearance. She'd gotten those, 'You look great!' comments after she'd had Norah and it had been a filthy, rotten lie.

Jinx was in a chair by the window, cradling Robyn in the crook of her arm; she was topped with a pink hat and about six blankets. Jinx was poking her finger in her face, bright-eyed and captivated as ever. And regardless of the dreamlike state in which she'd fallen, she was the one who heard the door.

"Hi sweetheart!" she proclaimed, waving her free hand and then staring straight back into the face of her new granddaughter. "Marshall! I didn't expect to see you!" she wasn't even meeting his eyes. "You and Abigail don't have plans for the holiday?"

Marshall was swift, "I thought it was only appropriate I stop by," he fabricated. "I come bearing gifts," he presented the balloons, of which he seemed eccentrically proud.

"Hey guys…" Mark and Brandi greeted them almost simultaneously. But at the appearance of Norah, Mark cast off the younger sister immediately, smile wide and gaping, "There's my girl!"

He danced his way over, oddly buoyant Mary couldn't help thinking, and holding out his arms for a pass-off. She gave her up at once, knowing this was why she'd brought her along. It wasn't as though Mark hadn't proven himself in the last year of her life, but his actions the night before had basically sealed the deal. He loved his daughter; he was dedicated to Mary and he'd given her, as Peter had called it, the 'conk on the head' she'd needed. The least she could do was show him that, no matter what happened with Marshall, no one could replace him.

"Daddy missed you…" he sang once Norah was busy playing with the buttons on his polo. "Daddy missed you a lot; we had fun yesterday with Marshall, didn't we?"

"We built a tower…" Marshall chimed in.

"And we threw the ball…" Mark continued still in that sappy-sweet voice.

"We even napped at close to the correct time…" Marshall commenced, which earned a laugh.

"And then we capped off the day by taking two steps from the coffee table," Mary cut in.

The effect was more instantaneous than she'd anticipated. With the chortling from Marshall's statement, Mary had thought perhaps they might miss it, but no dice. Jinx gasped so loudly Mary thought she might drop poor, brand new Robyn. Mark and Brandi bleated on with a chorus of, 'really' and 'are you serious?' It was finally her father that got the clarification.

"You're kidding!" he'd dispensed with the goofy grin and just looked delighted, his mouth part-way open, brown eyes more boyish than ever. "She's walking?"

"Well, she _walked_…" Mary began to wish she'd said that to Joanna as well, hoping all the commotion wasn't for nothing. "Once. About three inches, mind you, but still…"

Mark didn't care in the least and was done listening, "Oh, daddy's so proud of you! Yes, he is! Daddy's so proud of you!" he smooched her little cheeks and fingered her top, and amid the news and Jinx's reaction, she finally noticed the ensemble.

"She's wearing the Fourth of July outfit I got her!" she shrieked, probably deafening the baby in her arms.

"Technically, it was you and Joanna…" Mary snarked. "And next time, I would like to be informed before you go on a shopping spree and scheme to dress _my_ daughter up like some nauseating model in a magazine."

"Silly…" Jinx waved a disinterested hand. "She looks adorable, just like I told you she would."

"She does look cute, Mare," Brandi finally spoke up, and this recalled Mary to the real reason they were there.

All this focus shouldn't be on her, and it was important she get the pleasantries and chit-chat out of the way so they could vacate everybody to make room for Peter. Brandi was likely to wear out quickly and Mary was pretty sure she wanted to be alert for such a conversation.

"Enough on my little insect here…" the older sister segued, side-stepping Mark to the head of her bed; he congregated with Marshall toward the end. "How you doing, Squish?"

Brandi smiled up at her, and Mary knew in just one look that original-recipe-Brandi had returned. Her blue eyes held their telltale signs of innocence and longing. She'd been to hell and back, but even after an experience like this one, they never lost their ability to convey happiness meshed with hope. No matter how bad things got, she always saw the good news that might be just around the corner.

"Great…" both her eyes and smile flicked to the left where Jinx was still making faces at Robyn. "My stitches are a little sore. You might be right about that scar."

Mary was pretty astounded she remembered her saying that, since she'd been seconds away from going under at the time.

"Squish the Survivor…" Mary created a frame with her hands as she said it. "Sounds like some lame-ass cartoon movie of the week."

Brandi laughed and Jinx gave her classic, 'Oh, Mary!' as she was often known to do. Mark was through paying attention, having too much fun with his little girl. Marshall had stepped over to check out the little one, unable to keep himself away.

"Mom told you her name, right?" Brandi asked in a soft bashful voice, like she was three again.

"Yeah…" Mary tried to make it easy for her, placing a hand to her shoulder as she had now done so many times before. "I like it. I like it a lot."

That was sufficient right? Welling up or gushing with this many people around was not a good idea.

"You should hold her," Brandi suddenly suggested out of nowhere. "Robyn, I mean."

"I don't know…" Mary shook her head. "Pulling her away from Nana Jinx might take a full afternoon," she cast Jinx her scornful look.

"Nana Jinx…" the grandmother scoffed. "I don't think so, dear. But, I can let go for a minute or two…"

To Mary's surprise, she stood from where she sat by the window and worked her way around the bed to where Mary was standing. This close, and with a swaddled bundle in her arms, Mary was stunned to realize Jinx was a lot shorter than she was. She didn't know why it was hitting her so; that her mother was below. It was like Mary was the grown-up again, and she felt like the little girl as she was handed the baby, surely about to be scolded not to drop or hurt her.

Once Robyn was secure against her breast, a most peculiar sensation stole over Mary. She'd thought she'd feel as she had when she'd held Norah for the first time – taken in at the drop of a hat, washed with serenity at having something so plainly beautiful in her grasp. But this was different. Norah had been _so_ small; frail little fingers, weedy torso, that thin and tiny face. But Robyn had fat, rosy little cheeks and long lashes fluttering against her closed lids. She was twitchy and fidgeted more than Norah had.

She didn't feel like Norah. She felt like Brandi.

"_Honey, be careful..." said a familiar voice. "She's not a toy, you know that…"_

"_I know!" Mary insisted. "I wouldn't even drop my _toys_. Why would I drop Brandi?"_

"_She does take good care of her toys, Ginger. That's how I know she'll take such good care of her sister."_

Don't cry. Come on, don't cry. Not now.

Mary cautioned herself as she tried to speak like a rational person.

"Brandi, you think we could have just a second?" she asked, knowing everyone was staring at her. "You and me, I mean. Not me and the baby," she tried to laugh.

"Mom, do you mind?" Brandi craned her neck around Mary's form to ask.

Jinx shook her head, "No problem, sweetie. I need to grab something to eat anyway.

"I'll take you down to the cafeteria," Marshall offered. "I am certain we can find _something_ to discuss."

Mary had a very shrewd idea what that _something_ might be, and tried not to smirk as Marshall and her mother made their way toward the door. Marshall wasn't even trying, looking ridiculously arrogant about the whole thing – not a color you usually saw on him, but he was a new man today. Mark even migrated the same direction once they were gone, but made a detour to Mary.

"I should probably go too…" he began. "Here, give me Robyn; I'll put her in the bassinet so you can take Norah…"

He made to place the little girl on the ground for a moment, but Mary was quick to stop him. He didn't get it; he hadn't understood. He was on auto-pilot with the way Mary tended to hoard her daughter.

"No – Mark, take her with you," she insisted. And then, seeing him look flabbergasted with Norah halfway to the floor and hitching her back up, "You and your mom should take her out. Let her try cotton candy or something," she offered a joking half-smile.

Mark couldn't forget, "Really, are you sure?"

Mary debated, but had the very strong hope the events of the last few days would get her by on schmaltz and sentiment.

"You're her father, Mark," she said it plainly. "Don't be afraid to remind me sometimes."

Mark knew that _definitely_ wouldn't go over in the days to come, but she could tell he appreciated the effort. His smile was the same as it had been when he was a carefree twenty-year-old. It was funny how looks and appearances could help you hold someone in time forever, even when so many other aspects of them had changed. But something else hadn't altered, and it was the chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks, kid."

She didn't correct him this time.

"See you later, Brandi! Congrats!" he tried to wave over his shoulder, but didn't do a very good job before he disappeared from view.

Mary unintentionally felt a little awkward with everyone vacating so quickly; she'd expected to have to herd them toward the door. But, now that she and her sister were alone, she supposed she should get on with it. Marshall would be smart enough to take Jinx another direction so they wouldn't spot Peter in the waiting room, but she couldn't be sure about Mark.

"What's up, Mare?" Brandi asked to get her started. "Sit down. Mom is already claiming Robyn likes to be rocked," she reported with a laugh.

Mary took the directions for what they were and settled herself into a chair at Brandi's bedside. This room was smaller than the one she'd labored in, but homier as well. A pointless picture of a sailboat was on the wall and the curtains were open so they could see outside. Robyn seemed to want to go back to sleep as Mary sat down, nuzzling herself into the bend in her aunt's arm.

"I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, Squish," Mary stated. "About…well, a couple things," she decided, trying to smile.

"Sure," Brandi nodded. "But, can I say something first?"

Leave it to Brandi to cut her off before they could begin. As a new mother, she was going to get a lot of perks in the next few days.

"What is it?"

"Well…" Brandi began to fiddle with the fringe on the blanket across her middle. "I was kind of…out of it when we last saw each other…"

"In a matter of speaking," Mary scoffed.

"But, you didn't come back after the baby was born and I didn't get a chance to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" Mary was good at nudging people along.

"Well…" a shrug from her little sister. "Thank-you? I mean, I know I was acting super crazy and everything…"

"Your insides were acting super crazy," Mary couldn't resist pointing out. "Seriously, I don't think even Norah beat on me as hard as this one slapped you around," she jerked her head at Robyn.

"But still…" Brandi obviously wanted this heard. "You kept telling me to be calm and I should've done it…"

"It's kind of hard to be calm when you have no idea what's coming for you down the tracks," Mary placated her.

"But _you_ do it every day."

That stopped Mary dead center, wondering if this was a good enough segue into the first item of business she wanted to discuss with Brandi. No matter how Mary insulted her or refused to believe she could change, Brandi always came crawling back. It could be out of sheer admiration, it could be because Mary was her meal ticket. Or, it could be a combination of those things. Regardless, for as heavily as it had sat on her conscience since the other day, she knew it was finally time to have this talk. Like adults.

"Brandi, I'm not…Superwoman or Mary Marvel or however you see me," she started to say. "You and mom and dad, you all acted like I was the eighth wonder of the world when I was only seven. Do you know how hard it is to live up to that?"

Brandi looked befuddled, "What do you mean?"

She could do this kindly. As kindly as Mary ever did anything. But it was time. Brandi was a big girl. She kind of wished she didn't have the _little_ girl in her arms when she made the attempt.

"We both need to grow up," she said quietly. "You and me. You need to be out on your own, and I need to let you be out on your own without giving you the idea you're going to fail miserably every time you try. Because honestly, Brandi…"

Mary sighed, watching her sister's expression change as all this came spilling out. She looked a little stilted, maybe jarred, but also resolute. There was truth in every word.

Mary finished her phrase, "Brandi, you do _so well_ when you make the effort. Seriously, you do," she nodded to help reinforce the point. "You were even a businesswoman there for awhile. You just can't let every setback throw you down some manhole cover like your life is over."

"So…what?" Brandi wanted to be clear. "You-you want me to move out? I'd have to go live with mom; where else would I go?"

"Brandi, no…" Mary was a little annoyed she'd jumped to worst-case scenario and tried not to rise. "We made a deal when you moved in. Stay until the baby comes, take the first three months, and then shove you back into the real world to get a job. Then you could get your own place down the line; you do have _some_ money."

"That was Peter's money…" she whispered in a small voice.

"Just because you made it working for him doesn't make it his money," Mary informed her. "I know he never said that to you."

"But, so…" Brandi still looked a little lost, and Robyn was getting wiggly in Mary's arms. The elder sister shifted her up higher and continued to listen. "I know we talked about all that. What's different now?"

Mary wasn't known for wanting to be tactful, but she kept telling herself that was the best way to go. Be firm, but caring – somehow, someway. She wasn't entirely sure they meshed in her case; they didn't always equate.

"Squish, I can't take care of you anymore."

No – wait. Back up. Explain. She'll go off the rails.

"I mean…look…" Mary fumbled as she hurried to give details. "Brandi, you're thirty-three years old. You should have a job and a place to live, and you should _want_ all those things. It'll make you happier – more independent," she sounded like some infomercial. "We're sisters, and I want to be there for you and talk to you and all those things mom believes 'real sisters' do…" in her haste, she rolled her eyes. "But I don't want this feeling of having to pick up the pieces anymore. It sounds harsh, Squish, but…"

"No…" Brandi finally interrupted. "Mary, I know all I do is take from you…"

"That's not what I'm getting at…"

"But it's true," Brandi insisted. "Look at last night!"

"Brandi, I swear that's not what I mean," Mary insisted. "I _wanted_ to be there for you. It scared the shit out of me, but I wanted to do it."

"Really?" her sister seemed surprised.

"I'm not cutting you out or turning you loose," Mary continued to clarify. "When we get there, if you need help with finances or the job hunt or whatever, I can do that. And if you have a bad day, I can listen. But know this…"

It wasn't a threat. It was essential it didn't come out sounding like one. This wasn't about being bigger and better and more qualified, but for all intents and purposes Mary had two Brandi's to keep an eye on now. She didn't intend to let anything happen to Squish, the sequel.

"Robyn needs you," she whispered. "She doesn't need an aunt or a grandmother; she needs _you_. Her mother. Nothing I can do for her will ever compare to what you can. There's no replacement on this one."

Brandi actually smiled then, and it was plain that she understood. Life was going to get a hell of a lot harder, but independence was worth it in the end, for everything and everybody. Part of Mary knew her sister didn't take it so simplistically, but the prospect of raising _her_ child on _her_ terms and in her _own_ way was idealizing the situation in a nicer fashion.

"When I said we _both_ needed to grow up, I meant it," Mary concluded, hoping Brandi was going to say something again soon. "You should be living like an adult, and I need to shake off this mentality that I can rescue everyone who has _one_ thing go wrong."

"You're not _that_ bad, Mare," Brandi informed her with a girlish grin. "From what I can tell, dad pretty much let you think you could bring on world peace in a day. And, I'm not glad he's gone but now that he is…"

Mary knew where that statement was going. Now that James was dead, Mary could let go of everything he'd soaked into her all these years. It was hard to shed a blanket that cozy; wrapped in patches of a father that had adored her despite everything he'd done.

"Brandi, I wish you'd gotten to see him…" Mary found herself admitting, not able to fathom knowing he'd been 'right there' and that she might've missed him. "For whatever that's worth."

Robyn was getting fidgety and fussy, and it was reminiscent of Norah's sleepy cry. Mary stood and allowed Brandi to chew on what she'd just said, placing Robyn in the bassinet on the far side of the bed. She calmed slightly in her blankets, little fingers flashing around her face as she fought to get comfortable. Slowly but surely, she settled in, Mary stroking one of those pinchable cheeks with her long index finger.

"Was there something else?" Brandi spoke up; apparently they were done with the last topic.

Peter. Oh yeah, that.

Mary turned around; glad Robyn was content and decided this one could maybe be blurted out however brusquely she wanted. This one was Brandi's doing; not some decision Mary had made. Growing up and dealing with it started right here.

"Peter's here."

It was almost worth it for the look on Brandi's face; Mary really felt like an obnoxious sister then. Flabbergasted really didn't begin to describe it. Brandi looked like she'd swallowed some kind of snake and she went pale almost immediately, mouthing indistinctly with no sound coming out.

"Brandi, come on…" Mary took pity and waved a casual hand. "You asked for him, don't you remember?"

"He's _here_?" she finally choked out, tugging nervously at the neck of her gown. "Where? What did you do with him?"

"I didn't _do_ anything with him," Mary huffed. "He's in the waiting room; he just wanted to hang out until everybody split – didn't want a show."

"Mary, what do I say to him?" she hissed, like that snake was still in her throat. "What did you say to Mark?"

But Mary just grinned, rubbed her hand on Robyn's belly, and stepped to the side of the bed. She kissed Brandi, quick and light against her temple. She was reminded forcefully of those moments in the operating room and swallowed them once more.

"Welcome to co-parenting, Squish," she would figure this one out for herself. "Good luck."

Brandi just sat there shell-shocked, but didn't beg for anything else. She still looked like that when Mary made it to the door, and the elder Shannon decided one word meant to console wouldn't hurt. Advising her, guiding her; all that could come later.

"Brandi…"

The younger's eyes darted onto hers.

"I'm glad you're all right," she nodded, a sincere half-smile on her lips. "You'll be fine," she was talking about Peter this time.

Brandi nodded, slowly at first, and then with more conviction, "Yeah. Thanks."

Mary's hand was on the knob, ready to leave and fetch the man about whom they were speaking, when her sister called her back one more time.

"Hey Mare…" she turned. "Why is Marshall here? He works like a madman these days; doesn't he want to spend the holiday with Abigail?"

Blurting it out seemed less appropriate once more, but Mary also had no desire to give up the nitty-gritty. It was too deep, too complicated, and too much for this moment.

"He and Abigail…" she shrugged, a twinge of guilt in her gut. "Broke up."

"No…" Brandi leaned forward, wincing slightly. "Really?"

"Really…" she nodded.

"Why?"

The longer Mary stood there, the stupider she looked. She was biting on her lip, fighting a strange, convoluted smile. She was shifting on her feet, back and forth, back and forth. She crossed her arms. But with each gesture, Brandi's grin grew wider and wider. Her eyes danced and she got that ridiculous look she did when she was feeling the need for a good case of gossip.

But it appeared there was no guessing on this one.

"Jesus Mare…" she laughed, hoarse and scratchy like the Brandi she was. "It's _about time_."

XXX

**A/N: Only one more to go, I'm afraid! I hope I end with a bang!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: This is it, folks! It's been a fun ride!**

XXX

It had been a long time since Mary had looked at the stars. They were smaller than she remembered – more pinprick like. Just these itty-bitty specks, like dots or paint splatters on a canvas of black. Well, not black really. More like navy. She'd forgotten that too; the sky wasn't really so pitch on even the darkest nights. There was the tiniest hint of indigo beneath, reminding you that the true blue did linger somewhere inside. It wasn't going to be shadowy forever – grey maybe, even cloudy. But the sun, along with its forget-me-not, would indeed penetrate again someday.

"When do those experts say the sun is gonna burn out, doofus?" Mary asked Marshall, sitting to her right.

"Varies…" he supplied. "Depends."

His hand was on her backside. It made her heart beat sadistically in her ribcage.

"Six billion years, perhaps. But it'll burn brighter up until that time. Fascinating, huh?" he decided.

"If, by fascinating, you mean astonishingly boring; then yeah, I guess," Mary quipped.

She gave him a second on that, waiting to see if he was going to press it. When he did nothing of the kind, she turned to look at him and all he could do was smile. It was soft and understated, but stood out far more than anything above.

"When do these things go off?" Mary wanted to know, attempting to feed him a very irritated glance. "I'm not sitting on my ass all night."

The pair of them were seated on Marshall's old desk on the roof of the Sunshine Building; the place to which it had been demoted with his promotion. The box fans in the wall were whirring, mingling almost pleasantly with the cicadas. The spindly little black table in the corner was rickety in the warm breeze. Mary had her legs tucked up under her, the easier for Marshall to have that hand on her backside where it sat so effortlessly.

"Nine, I think," he responded to her question. After checking his watch, "Any time now."

"Kind of wish Norah was here…" Mary couldn't help admitting.

Under ordinary circumstances, she'd have never let someone get so close to her when it was so hot out. Well, even if it was thirty below. Who was she kidding? There was nothing ordinary about any of this anymore.

"Ah, she's probably having a good time with Mark…" the hand squeezed then. "And I can't help thinking those miniscule eardrums of hers would not take kindly to the ruckus – the rumpus – created by fireworks."

"Don't say rumpus," Mary requested at once. "Seriously, there are _way_ too many jokes in that one and I don't have time for it tonight."

Meaning she didn't want to tonight.

"Did you know that fireworks originated in China as far back as the 10th century? And that in Ireland, they shoot them off during Halloween, rather than the Fourth of July," Marshall dictated. "Not surprising, as our version of Independence Day would not be the same as theirs."

Mary wanted to make fun of his wealth of knowledge as usual, and although she still found it pretty droning, she had something different on her mind with the mention of pyrotechnics. There was no question what, as it had penetrated pretty intensely since this same time two days before. She was still floored to think how much had happened in just forty-eight hours.

She didn't look at him, instead focusing on his free hand, which was resting on his outstretched leg. He was anchoring her with his arm as she thought; as she fell into the past once again.

"I loved fireworks when I was a kid," she whispered.

"Yeah?" he was patient.

"Just, you know…" she glanced toward the heavens, watched the stars winking at her from a whole universe away. "It's _so_ dark at night. Even the sun can't shine through. But something as tiny as a sparkler or firecracker – one strike, one match and they light up the whole sky."

"Mmm…" he was still waiting, sensing she'd fallen into her own world for a minute.

"They seemed so close – those bursts of red and blue and pink…" her fingers were itching against her knee, like she wanted to get her grabbing hand ready. "I used to beg my dad to make them shoot off more. One more chance and I could see behind the clouds if they lit it bright enough," she'd dreamed big in those days. "See what was back there keeping the sun from hiding."

She didn't mention the part about believing she was behind the flashes; that her father had convinced her of something that foolish. Some weird part of her thought Marshall might already suspect that. If she was bull-headed now, there was no telling how she'd been as a child in terms of her ability to think she moved heaven and earth.

"Aspiration very literally beyond the stars," he finally did more than nod his head at all her babbling. "If anyone could…"

He really _was_ in love – giving Mary so much credit. She chanced another glance into his face, and it was the same as it had been before. Enraptured, enchanted, captivated, mesmerized by every line in hers. It was amazing, the kind of weight that could be lifted after daring to take a risk.

"Seems kind of dumb to me," Mary grumbled with a shrug at his comment.

"Not dumb…" Marshall shook his head. "Lofty. What seven-year-old doesn't dream of something like that?"

"I was four," she whispered, not sure why. "It was before Brandi was born."

Marshall took a sip of water from the Marshal mug he'd brought from the kitchenette, "You remember that far back? My own thoughts from my preschool years are awfully fuzzy, I have to say."

Another shrug, "It's imbedded. Anything with my father. It's like I don't know _how_ to forget."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Do you _want_ to?"

Slowly, but unable to deny it, Mary shook her head. She shook it so many times her eyes strayed to Marshall's hand again, willing herself to stop because surely he got the message. But she just kept doing it, with easy passing shake the whole thing feeling truer than ever. She was scared to _not_ remember. What did she have left anymore?

"They're the only part of him I have," her eyes were fixated on that one spot, even as badly as she wanted to look at Marshall. "How else am I going to block out that image of him…" she could see it now; that was the trouble with the dark. "…That image of him covered in his own blood on the ground; this mass just seeping from his chest, staining my hands…"

"Mary…" Marshall whispered; it was clear he wanted her to stop. "It was a horrible way for him to go. He deserved a lot, but not that. You _certainly_ didn't."

She'd never told anybody how haunted she was by James' death, and although it was going to take a lot longer to muddle through it, part of her felt better that she had purged some of it. Somebody else knew how she felt now, somebody who would not judge her or push her or make her feel worse. She blinked up at him, trying to tell him without another phrase that she was okay – that this had actually, maybe, helped on some bizarre level.

"He was ready to go," Mary found herself saying. "It seemed like it, anyway."

"Well…Mary, God knows I would _never_ wish that on you…" Marshall closed his eyes at the thought. "But being with you when he left this world was probably…"

He topped this off with a shrug, no need to go any further. Mary knew what he meant. And it was better he didn't go on; she didn't have to analyze it to death.

"I was happy with him Marshall…" she turned back to the sky and nudged herself closer into his embrace; their arms pressing together. "Almost as happy as I am right now."

She could tell he was smiling even if he wasn't looking at her, and also that he knew this was her way of shifting away from talking about her father. She'd done her part in opening up and was ready to put it away. Any second now, the blanket above was going to be splashed and spattered with the firework display that had been the start of the whole conversation.

"So this is what happy looks like on you," Marshall observed. "I mean, I am not a dishonest man; part of it is a little terrifying…"

"Come on…" Mary laughed. "Don't make me out to be some lovebird now. That's a great way to get a boot up your ass. Mark my words."

"Dually noted," he agreed.

At that moment, Mary's cell phone sounded off in her pocket. Thinking it might be Mark or Joanna, she maneuvered it out to take a peek at the screen, Marshall interested as well. It was an unfamiliar number, but she recognized the area code. Thinking fast, whirling through all the different ones in her mind, she finally came up with the result and it didn't please her.

"It's D.C…" she sighed dramatically.

"No way," Marshall did the same. "On a holiday? We're three hours away! Three hours from starting the clock again!"

"I'll put 'em on speaker, that way you can lay into that asshat too…" she was thinking of all the paper pushers up there that called just to complain. "Let's hear it douche bags!" she called, angling the phone in her palm. "Who's having the hissy fit on my day off?"

There was the faint sound of static, muttering, and then…

"Happy fourth to you too, inspector!"

Her and Marshall exchanged looks of pure surprise and delight at hearing that familiar voice float through, so near to his old office.

"Stan the Man!" Mary cried, shocking even herself at the buoyancy. "How's the land of the stars and stripes, chief? How many firework shows do they perform on Capitol Hill? An even twenty?"

Stan chuckled genially, "Too busy for the spectacles, I'm afraid. Just thought I'd call and check up on you; make sure Marshall's keeping you in line."

"Ask him yourself," Mary invited.

"He's there?"

"Hey Stan!" Marshall took his turn at calling. "She's been behaving for the most part, but can't be too careful."

Mary scowled, but was boosted by Stan's next words.

"That's our Mary."

She listened to Marshall and Stan chatter back and forth for a few minutes, hitting a few work-related items amongst the pleasantries. Mary's heart swelled in a way she couldn't have expected at hearing Stan's voice, and had to admire the way Marshall side-stepped all things Abigail. That could be explained at a later date when they had more time. Stan would be interested, surely. Mary just wondered if he would've been anticipating his two inspectors hooking up as everybody else seemed to have done.

"Mary, any baby news?" Stan broke the flow to inquire. "How's Brandi doing?"

"A mother of twenty-one hours," she reported, mock-businesslike. "Female – eight pounds, one ounce. Just under two feet tall. Born on the Fourth of July."

"Ah, fabulous…" Stan was forever sweet. "Tell her congratulations. Congratulations to her and…?"

It only just occurred to Mary that Stan wouldn't know the father of the baby whether it had been a secret or not. She tended not to share such facets of her life with him.

"Peter," she swept in casually. "They're working on it," and very well judging by Brandi's excitement after what seemed to have been a very cordial conversation at the hospital.

"And how's the one who's copying my haircut?" Stan blew on.

Mary knew he meant Norah, "Good. She's good."

Stan gave his praise for this as well, bantering back and forth with the two of them like old times. It felt so good; a part of her past Mary could embrace, not having realized just how much she missed Stan until it was like he was back here with them. Although she knew the change suited him, it wasn't the same. She was going to have to get used to it, one way or another.

"…Stan, I can't box Norah up in a fed-ex package…" Mary griped as they were wrapping up, Stan voicing his desire to see her little girl growing up so beautifully. "How are you supposed to 'say hi?' She can't even talk."

"Might actually have a few days off in August," he teased. "Thought I'd visit the homeland."

Marshall tugged Mary's arm at that moment, pointing skyward to a glimmer of light on the horizon. It was feeble, weak at best, but it meant the show was on its way. They wouldn't be able to hear Stan over all the booming anymore.

"Gonna have to cut you off…" Mary voiced, interrupting his plans. "Big business to conduct here with Marshall," she was such a liar, and had trouble keeping the smirk off her face with Stan unable to see her.

"You two…" she could picture him shaking his head. "Don't either of you know when to quit?"

Mary flashed Marshall the fondest glance she could. Stan's statement, despite its having been intended for a different reason, spoke of their nature right now. They definitely did not know when to let go. Nine years as partners, of running from their feelings, staying out of the emotional minefield but jumping headfirst into the actual one. Having each other's backs, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and always being too concerned the other wouldn't be there when you looked over your shoulder to voice what lay underneath. It was a mess, but they operated in the best way possible under all the chaos.

Marshall grinned, knowing what was coursing through Mary's mind.

"Sure don't," he said simply.

With that, Mary hung up, tossing the phone to Marshall's lap so she wouldn't have to fumble it back into her pocket. The minute she did, the first burst of blue ruptured in the big open sky, raining down into the stars, crackling as its embers burned to the ground.

They sat for the longest time after that, watching the colors of their nation's flag glimmer spectacularly above their heads. Dazzling shades of crimson that popped and cracked, deep navies dancing and mingling among pink wheels that spun around its fellows. There were even greens and oranges, underused, but like a bow coming off a package when they appeared – unique and mystical in their splendor.

Marshall's hand was pleasantly warm in its favorite spot now. His fingers began to tickle, and then his lips as they crawled to Mary's temple and kissed. There was a bursting in her stomach at that moment, reminiscent of the show above. She thought of that feeling in other moments – James' face at the door, a witness dead in their home, calls Jinx had been picked up on a DWI. It had gotten so familiar by now she hadn't imagined it could feel differently. But, it did. Instead of ravens and crows scratching in her belly, it was butterflies; their wings soft and fluttering against the edges, gentle on a heart that had been bruised so many times before.

She'd felt it only once before as far as she could remember – before this moment. Norah's face in the hospital room, staring up into her own.

"I don't know that I've ever had a better night than this," Marshall voiced from where he lay compressed against her temple.

"Kind of just figuring out its real," Mary chimed in.

"Don't know what I'd be doing if it weren't," he shifted. "Happy Independence Day to you, inspector."

She was slightly nettled by the teasing but zoned in on his salutation instead. She chuckled with the thought, and then spoke aloud.

"Independence Day," she mused. "Sounds about right."

"Hmm?"

"Well…with Robyn and everything…" Mary shrugged. "It's like Brandi's coming out party where that's concerned," he knew what they'd discussed. "But for me…"

She pulled out of the crook of his arm and gazed up at him with her big green eyes. Marshall would venture a guess Norah's were going to be the exact same shade.

"Kind of the opposite of independence," she joked. "You braniacs call that irony, right?"

"Well, then I vote we don this the first official _Dependence_ Day," Marshall ran his finger up and down her arm. "To mark the anniversary of your ability to…well…" he was trying to make light. "See what a great catch I am."

"Funny," Mary sniped.

But it _was_ funny. She liked the sound of it more than she had ever imagined she would – relying on someone who was going to be there, no matter what. No rules, regulations, stipulations, or red tape. Someone to share her life with, no barrier to break down; it had fallen, and here they were.

Marshall was kissing her again. Her neck, her cheek, her temple, her hair. Mary turned and allowed him to graze her lips. The sound of the fireworks were a distant hum, sounding off in her subconscious, carrying her away to a world where this was okay.

It was okay to be loved. To trust not every single person you met was going to let you down.

"Arms open…" he said hoarsely among the romance. "Far and wide."

And that was where Mary's heart had taken off. To the far, wide, vast, and open universe. Full of opportunities; like Robyn. Like Norah. Like Brandi.

She pulled away and blinked slowly into his clear blue eyes. She loved his clear blue eyes.

"Happy Dependence Day to you too, doofus," she hardly dared believe she'd used his corny phrase.

"This all feels so naughty…" he mused with a well-timed rise of his eyebrow. "You dating your boss."

"Come on, please," Mary eyed him like he was being stupid. "We're not _dating_."

"Well, we are a _couple_…" he rephrased, his arm woven in her hair. "In some fashion or another. Defined as two things of the same kind that are together or are considered as a pair. Couples date, no?"

"Oh, so now we're a _couple_…" Mary's insides still churned with that trademark need to run, no matter how she tried to call them off.

But Marshall placed three fingers on her cheek, turning her face to his. He was as serious as she'd ever seen him.

"A couple. Hate to be the one to break it to you," he winced and Mary grinned; broadly, far and wide. "But we _sure as hell are_."

XXX

**A/N: THE END! Can't believe it's over! I decided to leave a few things open (Brandi and Peter, Marshall being chief) just because I think it's fun for readers to speculate, or at least not know everything. You get the big things wrapped up and imagine so much else.**

**As of now, I am actually trying to work on a sequel. I never really thought I was a 'sequel' person; when I wrote 'Look to the Sky' and I got so many requests for a sequel I was shocked. And, we all know how much that series expanded! Now, I feel like I'm always trying to continue. I don't know if a part two on this gang will get off the ground, but I hope it does. Any final thoughts on that?**

**Thank-you so much to everyone who has reviewed – henrylover94, OCP19, JJ2008, JMS529, athena64, Hannanball13, usafcmycloud, Jayne_Leigh, carajiggirl, Grey Fool, paperback-romance, Agent Striker, BrittanyLS, blueberry55, Jdragonfire29, RPenelope, Whyte Board Maker, Sparky She-Demon, tee86elle, tilleygirl, Dempeo4ever81, and a couple others I know have been reading even though you haven't reviewed (which is totally okay!) I had a ton of new reviewers on this story, which I was thrilled about! I got used to the same set with the Sam series, and I was honored to gain some more. I know I don't hold the most popular of opinions in that I was not disappointed in the finale, but I am IPS-loyal-tried-and-true, and I appreciate so many of you taking the time to read my tales even if our thoughts differ on the way the show wrapped things up.**

**XOXO**


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